


The Long (Gay) Con

by TrashT



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self Indulgent Crap, Slow Burn, a lot of swearing i'm sorry, boyf riends — Freeform, buckle in for some good soft mlm boys, i am amazed that there aren't more fake/pretend relationship fics, jeremy fucks up in a social situation and then michael has to "pretend" to love him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-11-14 14:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 29,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11209830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashT/pseuds/TrashT
Summary: Growing out of their teens hadn’t really changed Jeremy and Michael all that much. They still got stoned together, although now in their shitty roach-motel apartment with the broken fire alarm, they were still losers, and they were still each other’s favourite people. Michael was still a pining idiot, and Jeremy was still truly awful at lying.(in which jeremy accidentally cons his way into a broadway leading role and also into michael's heart)





	1. we'll save money by sharing a bed

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this'll get a lot gayer and a lot higher rating soon, and the rest of the gang will appear asap. i'm very new to this fandom as in like 3 days in so hi! I don't have a beta and also i'm australian and know nothing of new york so sorry about any mistakes, please comment to correct me and also just to chat?? that'd be great?? also kudos and all that jazz please i love my mistress named validation
> 
> Also i swear there won't be as much texting in the next chapter, this was a lot more than i meant to type tonight.

Michael and Jeremy moved away from their small town immediately after graduation. It wasn’t the greatest place to begin with, and the whole ordeal when they were juniors really just sealed the deal. They had talked about what they were going to do, discussed it with the rest of the SQUIP squad, but all it really came down to was Jeremy and Michael wedged into a PT Cruiser along with all the clothes and games they could fit, and enough Mountain Dew Red to last them a few months. Bob Marley streamed out the windows as they drove off, captured beautifully on Rich’s snapchat story where he’s also somehow managed to scrawl “JUST MARRIED” over the back of the trunk in what, as Michael found out when they parked for a pit stop, was in fact white house paint.

 

Now, the PT Cruiser is out under the flickering streetlights, in constant risk of parking tickets because their shitty apartment doesn’t even have parking, a couple of Red bottles in the trunk and the side-mirror barely hanging on with duct-tape after they got side-swiped a few too many times in the busy New York traffic. The white paint has mostly come off, now just reading “J ST  M   R ED”.

 

So, yeah, they live in New York which, despite how terrible their flat is, is still stupidly expensive. Michael works two jobs full time, finishing up his shifts at the Soda Factory, a ridiculously hipster café in Soho with exposed beams and aesthetically polished concrete floors, just in time to race over to Game Over, a retro gaming themed bar that he bartends at most nights.

 

The first couple of months were rough to say the least. He’s tired most of the time and the wounds (both physical and psychological) from the SQUIP dilemma were still fresh and raw. Jeremy also barely slept, he woke up screaming almost every night, scratching at the electrical scars around his wrists until they’re red and raw, but he jumps out of bed at 7am every day, still worried about being shocked for slothfulness.

 

It’s part of the reason they got rid of the second bed in their flat. Most of the reason was that the second bed didn’t even have a mattress in it when they moved in, and was just a metal and wood frame taking up almost half of their floor space.

 

The other reason was the nightmares, on both of their parts. After the whole junior year thing, they learnt right away that physical contact helped Jeremy’s nightmares and even just holding onto Jeremy’s hand could help ground Michael during a panic attack.

 

The third reason, the one that Michael had never voiced, will never voice, is that being near Jeremy helped. A lot. For everything. Staring at his eyelashes twitching as he fell asleep helped to plug up some of the hollowness he still felt inside. It didn’t help his crush on his best friend, but no way in hell was Michael Mell, Jeremy’s favouwit pewson and owner of some deep-seat abandonment issues, ever going to bring that up. No way in fucking hell. So he lays in silence most nights, making sure Jeremy’s fully asleep before he himself passes out to grab a couple of hours of rest before he yanks himself out of bed to start the whole sordid work day all over again.

 

Growing out of their teens hadn’t really changed Jeremy and Michael all that much. They still got stoned together, although now in their shitty roach-motel apartment with the broken fire alarm, they were still losers, and they were still each other’s favourite people. Michael was still a pining idiot, and Jeremy was still truly awful at lying. That inability to lie (and it’s root cause of social anxiety) had been an issue in the past, from flat out telling his dad the first time he got high to being completely unable to lie during SQUIP squad Truth or Dare in college. Which is why Michael, on the train between the café and the bar, wasn’t very surprised by the absolute flurry of messages he received when he turned his phone back on.

 

[4:15 pm] heereortheere: uhhh

[4:15 pm] heereortheere: uhhHHHHHHHHH

[4:16 pm] heereortheere: HH H

[4:17 pm] heereortheere: michael i may have screwed up a tiny bit

[4:17 pm] heereortheere: and by a tiny bit i mean a lot of a bit

[4:17 pm] heereortheere: i know you’re at the soda factory right now i hope i got to u before ur break but i need u to message me back asap

[4:50 pm] heereortheere: i assume that the fact u haven’t messaged me back is because u have ur phone off like the good employee u are (i’m proud of ur work ethic buddy) but for the love of god message me asap

[5:30 pm] heereortheere: hey asno butas

[5:55 pm] heereortheere: i’m sorry that was mean but I am strESSD

[6:00 pm] heereortheere: if ur ignoring me on purpose like that one time i will be so mad and i will not cook dinner tonight but seriously please respond

[6:00 pm] heereortheere: are u dead?????? michael???? dude did u die??? i hope not but u may well die with shock at how badly i fucked up

 

[6:15 pm] heavenormell: i told you i had to pick up an extra hour at the café today, i’m not dead you nerd. hahahah asno butas seriously?

[6:15 pm] heavenormell: that’s not even vaguely right, do you even pick up any actual swears from me or does it go in one ear and out the other

[6:15 pm] heereortheere: i said i fucked up and ur biggest worry is my inability to swear in tagalog???

[6:15 pm] heavenormell: did you fuck up as bad as when you vored a depression computer? probably not, so yeah i’ll focus on your shit swearing

[6:16 pm] heereortheere: also hey i’m a geek and you know that but that’s not our biggest problem because i really did fuck up this time

[6:17 pm] heavenormell: how?

[6:17 pm] heavenormell: as in, both how bad and how did you screw up

[6:17 pm] heereortheere: i got the role in that musical audition

[6:17 pm] heavenormell: CONGRATS!!!! *party popper emoji* i told you you could do it

[6:18 pm] heereortheere: because they think i’m gay married to u

[6:18 pm] heavenormell: what

[6:18 pm] heavenormell: 3 big questions. 1. why do they think we are married. 2. why is that what got you the part 3. why. do. they. think. we. are. married.

[6:18 pm] heavenormell: (also it’s same sex marriage and you know that you hetero)

[6:19 pm] heavenormell: actually, 4th question. why was this so urgent? just lie? it’s not like i’ll ever meet your broadway producers??? why not wait until i’m home???

[6:19 pm] heereortheere: answers in no real order because im too stressed for order are: i can’t lie for shit, we need rings and a backstory, it’s something to do with the role itself and I’m really sorry about this but they will be meeting you. tomorrow. we’re having lunch in soho.

[6:20 pm] heavenormell: okay wHAT

 

 


	2. let! michael! sleep!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is a beleaguered bread-winner, and is too tired right now.

Michael’s so busy staring at his phone, trying to figure out if calling Jeremy is going to trigger a panic attack, that he only barely notices his station in time to push past the rush of people packing themselves like sardines into the train. He stumbles a little when he pops out of the edge of the crowd and almost falls past the yellow line back onto the tracks when an arm shoots out and grabs his wrist, yanking him back to safety.

 

He follows up the arm to see a smiling face. The smile is a bit more of a smirk, really, but the smirking guy is cute anyway. He starts singing, and bopping his hips, which is enough to jolt Michael out of his daze and realise that the man is still holding onto his wrist, and the man is part of a barbershop quartet busking near the base of the stairs, and also Michael is so definitely going to be late to work if he keeps staring at this guy. He fishes in his pocket for some change as a ‘hey, thanks for not dropping me onto the train tracks’ tip and drops it into the scuffed up top hat next to guy’s feet. Barbershop-quartet-man squeezes his wrist and winks before letting go, the bopping tune that the group is singing trails Michael out of the station and up into the brisk air.

 

While he walks to the bar, half jogging and dancing his way through the crowd, Michael dumps his phone back into his satchel for the sake of fishing out his hair gel and his change of glasses. Michael’s change from barista to bartender has a solid three steps; mess up his hair with gel, a technique that was taught to him by an extremely enthusiastic Rich during high school, change from his chunky hipster glasses to his significantly gayer wire rimmed glasses, trade from his Soda Factory polo to whatever video game themed shirt he fished out the pile in front of his closet that morning. Today’s muscle tank has Pac-man over his left pec and one of the edible ghosts on the right pec, with “I’LL EAT YOU RIGHT UP” emblazoned underneath. It’s cheesy as all hell but he was pretty sure Jeremy was going to pass out when they saw it so what was he going to do, not buy it?

  
He’ll have to save the shirt changing for when he gets to duck into the back room at the bar, so as he waits at the crossing he sends off a few rapid fire messages to Jeremy, ignoring the messages he’s already gotten from his roommate trying, and probably failing, to explain the situation.

 

[6:27 pm] heavenormell: you know what? you’re going to have to explain the whole thing to me when i get home because i’m late to work again

[6:27 pm] heavenormell: NOT YOUR FAULT THO i just was late coming out of the cafe no time to read messages tho

[6:27 pm] heavenormell: i’m sure the whole thing probably isn’t that bad but if we’re meeting people tomorrow, can you get my nice clothes out of the closet?

[6:28 pm] heereortheere: which ones

[6:28 pm] heavenormell: jeremiah heere, you know perfectly well i only own one nice outfit, so that one. uhhhhhHH everything probably needs ironing, pls and thanks! try not to stress out, love you, remember to water squip

[6:39pm] heereortheere: okay will do all of that. try not to get fired for being late, love u 2

 

 

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. God, sometimes it’s hard being the positive one out of the two of them but it helps Jeremy, so Michael will do it despite the headache he has brewing. Michael elbows his way in through the back door just a few minutes late, and tucks his satchel behind the bar as he switches his shirts, simultaneously violently shoving his nerves and worries about what on earth Jeremy has done into the back of his head.

 

It’ll be fine. Probably. Maybe. Realistically, it’s not going be as bad as junior year, so you know what, it’ll be just fine.

“Yeah, woo-hoo! Give us a show!”

“Rich! Dude! Hi! This is still not a topless gay bar!”

“You, me and Jake are here so I say I can demand all the shows I want.”

“Unfortunately, there are also other people here and I think my boss wouldn’t be very happy if I started stripping.”

“Says you. Me and Jake want a show.”

“Speaking of Jake, where is he? And for that matter, when did you guys get into New York?”

“Jake is, uh, somewhere? Possibly getting cash out, I don’t know. And we just got off the plane from Las Vegas, baby!”

“Uh huh,” Michael says as he fishes for the right liquors behind the bar. “How did Las Vegas go?”

“We got married!”

Michael laughs wryly, “Yeah, me and Jeremy too, apparently.”

 

Jake appears behind Rich and then immediately has to dodge Rich’s flailing arms.

 

“WHAT? When did you and Jeremy finally start going out? No, wait, I bet it was this entire time and it was a secret all along and he was just hiding it because he’s nervous about how society treats queer theatre workers and- oh hey babe, you owe me 50 bucks, Michael and Jeremy got married.”

“Hey Jake. And no, Rich, I was obviously kidding about getting married. Jeremy is straight as a ruler.”

“And thick as a plank.” Jake adds.

Rich slumps dejectedly on the counter, but brightens up when a lurid blue and purple cocktail is pushed his way.

“Wait. Rich. If you thought I was being sincere, does that mean that you two ... actually got married?”

“Well yeah, of course we did! Why not? Great tax benefits, blingin’ rings, and I get to legally say that my boyfriend’s hot bod belongs to me now.”

“Rich, you know that marriage doesn’t actually mean you own me now, right?”

“Yeah, sure babe. Whatever you say.”

 

Rich tries to wink conspiratorially at Michael, in a ‘get a load of my husband, he’s so smart and hot and I love him a lot’ kind of way, but fails. Mostly because that’s a very hard sentiment to convey in a wink but also because Michael is just blankly gaping at them.

 

“Uh, Michael. You knew we were dating, right? We- we definitely told people, Rich?”

“We’ve been dating for 4 years, Michael would have had to have been blind not to notice, and yeah we did tell him. In fact, you told him before you asked me out.”

“Well, he is kind of blind.”

Michael shook himself enough to respond.

“Hey! I resent that comment, plenty of people need glasses.”

“Yeah, sure, we’re talking about your glasses. Hey, ow!“

Rich shuffles away from his husband’s pointy elbow, still staying in arms reach of his precious cocktail though.

“What was that for?”

“Rich, he’s literally right there in front of us, now is not the time.”  
Michael interrupts the impromptu staring match in front of him, complete with Meaningful Eyebrows, to half-say half-shout, “CONGRATULATIONS! I’m amazed I heard about this from you guys and not Jenna.”

 

The congratulations, and accompanying congratulatory cocktails, is enough to put a draw to the staring match and meaningful looks that Rich and Jake are sharing. Instead, they turn to clink their glasses with Michael’s and begin regaling him with stories of their many escapades in Las Vegas.

Michael’s shift passes faster than usual and he leaves with a spring in his step, many incriminating tales from the happy couple and a caps-locked note on his phone of their new address and “YOU SHOULD DEFINITELY COME VISIT US. BRING ~~YOUR BOYF RIEND~~ JEREMY. DON’T TELL HIM ABOUT US WE WANT TO SEE IF WE CAN MAKE HIM HAPPY CRY.”

By the time Michael actually makes it back home, his phone has just enough battery to show the time as 02:17 before powering off.  The spring in his step is entirely gone, because the soothing rhythms of his train home lulled him half-way to sleep, meaning that he almost misses his stop for the second time that day. He doesn’t bother to turn their single lamp on to get changed and slump into bed, because he, wrongly, assumes the flat is so small there’s nowhere to get lost anyway. He instead succeeds in stubbing his toe on the table and the bed frame, meaning that he falls onto the bed half on top of Jeremy, with one arms stuck weirdly inside his sleeve and his glasses caught in his hair.

Jeremy shoots up in bed, or as much as he can with Michael's full weight on top of him. If Michael could see shit without his glasses, he'd see that Jeremy is still wearing the same outfit as he wore to his audition, probably too distracted and nervous to remember to get changed before he fell asleep. But Michael has his shirt stuck over his eyes, so all he sees is darkness.

“W-Wuh?”

Michael would normally find Jeremy’s sleepy voice outrageously adorable if it wasn’t for how ludicrously tired he himself is. Instead of responding he just lies on top of Jeremy, mentally bemoaning waking up again in 5 hours.

“C’mon man. Let’s get your shirt off.”

Michael response is muffled, both by sleep and by the surprising amount of fabric that has lodged itself in his mouth.

“I always knew you wanted into my pants, Jeremy.”

“This is your shirt, you idiot. Get off me so I can help.”

“Fine, fine. Speaking of getting into and out of clothing together, do you want to explain your messages?”

“Oh, OH. Yeah! Alright so, I went to the fourth round of auditions today and it turned out that it was actually not an audition, just a meeting to offer me the part-”

“Told you you were going to get it.”

“I know, but I was nervous anyway. Anyway, I was talking to the directors and they started asking me about you, which I thought was pretty weird, right Michael? Michael?”

 

All Jeremy got in response were snores.

 

“Michael, you’ve got to wake up for a second, get under the covers, you’ll freeze.”

“Fine, mom.”

“Please don’t call me mom. Go back to sleep, I’ll explain in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of actual explanation here, but we'll get there tomorrow, possibly even tonight if I keep up this writing enthusiasm. (i'm still trying to figure out the specifics of how Jeremy fucked up) Thanks for everyone's comments and kudos, you guys are great. Again no beta so please feel free to chat to me in the comments!  
> (squip is the name of their plant, because that's a tip Michael saw online for reducing your association for deadnames and they are Not Adult Enough to take care of an actual living thing)


	3. Jeremy you defensive idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The author explains some stuff about ~emotional comfort~ and then Jeremy explains how and why he screwed up so badly. Michael is dumbfounded.

Jeremy wakes up before Michael, which is frankly pretty unusual for them given that Michael has been conditioned by Jeremy’s frequent nightmares to sleep very lightly. Jeremy normally, when he doesn’t wake up screaming, will sleep like the dead until he launches himself out of bed at 7 am on the dot. Jeremy lies as still as possible on the bed, trying his best not to jostle Michael as he fishes around for his phone- where did it get to- oh yep, under Michael’s shirt from last night. Which, Jeremy realises in the light of day, is not the generic polo he normally comes home wearing. It’s a muscle tee, one of the ones that body builders, and Rich, wear to the beach with the armpits so large you see the person’s entire chest. That’s … odd. Jeremy hasn’t seen Michael wear anything that reveals his chest since, well, never. Even in high school he always wore his red hoodie, or baggy graphic tees.

 

Jeremy stares at the shirt for a while, grasped loosely in his fist, pac-man and the ghost mashed together and warped by the fabric’s folds. His phone blinks out a solemn 6:58 am when he checks the time. He lies there, eyes lids drooping open and shut, with Michael’s legs intertwined with his until his back tenses painfully and he suddenly, desperately wants to get out of the bed.

 

He and Michael have been working on loosening the squip’s ghostly grip on his routine for a while, so he tries to breathe evenly, and lazily scan through social media on his phone, for a couple of minutes before the need is too great and he kicks his way out of the covers. He perches on the edge of the bed to check his phone, sitting with his back ram-rod straight because somehow, that eases the tension, the invisible pins and needles zipping up and down his spine.

 

Immediately after the play, Jeremy had done his best to explain the situation to Michael, why he didn’t see him for weeks, why he had been such an awful friend and all-around terrible person. Jeremy thinks he did a good job, but frankly all of them were still in shock at the time, so most of what Michael remembers from that conversation is swathes of speech and time passing him by, overrun by the sheer satisfaction of knowing Jeremy was okay. It wasn’t until later, when Jeremy was all but living in Michael’s house and Michael saw and heard the nightmares first hand that it all came tumbling out.

 

Jeremy does his best to explain most of the time, and Michael does his best to listen, but their warring forces of emotional constipation and fear of driving the other away means that even now, Michael doesn’t know the whole story. He knows more than the squip squad, he knows Jeremy’s specific trigger words, the best ways to help during depressive swings, where to check to make sure that Jeremy hasn’t picked himself bloody again. Even so, Michael had urged Jeremy to talk to a professional about the whole ordeal over and over again, until eventually Jeremy spat out that he was too worried that someone would think he was crazy and lock him away, or tell him he’s making it all up.

 

So their solution is this, a weaning off of old habits, constant reassurances of love, a valiant attempt by two twenty-something guys to communicate their emotions clearly, and naming their Japanese peace lily ‘squip’. Jeremy had mentioned buying a plant when they’d first found their flat, and Michael had agreed, even suggesting the name ‘squip’ as a coping mechanism he’s seen people talk about for their deadnames, giving their old or traumatic names to a pokemon character or animal. It helped. So did pretty much everything that Michael did for him. God, how did he deserve Michael, he didn’t deserve Michael, he couldn’t deserve him after what he did, he doesn’t deserve anything, sweet, dear, unfathomably loyal Michael, Michael who – who is laying across his back, breathing sleepy breaths into the slightly too long curls at the back of his neck.

“Jeremy, are you stressing out about stupid shit again?”

“Uh, define st- stupid.”

“Thinking that you deserve nothing even though you deserve the world.”

“I d- don’t deserve the world.”

Michael slumps further onto Jeremy’s back, slinging one arm over Jeremy’s shoulder to try and pat his face. He succeeds in patting at Jeremy’s cheeks, while slurring out “Yes you dooooooooo.”

Jeremy starts giggling, trying to dodge the slowly petting hand that is coming dangerously close to his eyes. The giggles peter out after a moment.

“Okay, what if I’m stressing out about our fake marriage.”

 

The hand stops petting, but the arm stays slung over his shoulder. There’s a pause in Michael’s movements which Jeremy recognises as his ‘I think you’re lying but you have your own reasons for that so okay’ silence.

 

“That’s a more practical reason to worry, maybe. I still don’t know what’s going on with that, by the way.”

Michael slides back onto the bed, starfishing out to take up all the space usually occupied by Jeremy.

“Sorry Michael, this will sound weird-”

“Hey, don’t worry, just say what you want to say, man.”

“Uh, so I’ll explain the marriage thing in a second, but my back still really hurts so, would it be okay if you-“

“Oh, yeah, of course. Usual place right?”

 

Jeremy’s shoulders loosen when Michael’s broad hand, still warm from snuggled sleep, presses against the thin scars running up his lower back. The warmth leeches some of the pain, a little at a time.

  

“Better, Jer?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Do you need a hot water bottle or something?”

“No, no, this is good for now. We need to sit together for me to explain the ma- marriage thing anyway.”  
“True, but it’s not like I’m going anywhere. You want to do this now?”

“Yeah. Might as well.”

Jeremy leans back against Michael’s hand, and allows himself to slump a little.

“Okay, you know the role I was trying out for?”  
“Mm-hmm, probably going to off-broadway, something to do with, ummm, space? Or a depressed teenager? Sorry, your last two are kind of blurring together.”  
“Don’t worry, yeah, it was the depressed teenager one. Really, when are musicals not about depressed teenagers? Anyway, apparently the writer, Belle, used to have Ch- Christine as a student from way back and Christine put in a good word for me, which was really great because that was the audition I called you from.”

“Oh my god.” Michael wriggles into a more upright position, keeping his hand on Jeremy’s back. “The one with the car accident outside, and the semi-panic attack because you thought it was the squip pulling an Eminem on you?”

“Yeah, that one, haha. Ha. So- so when I came in, I was super nervous and sweaty, and I really wanted to just run away but I didn’t! I guess the good word from Christine came in handy because they let me do my audition even though I was ten minutes late and had horrid pit stains, and probably looked like I’d cried. Ugh, that’s so awful, I feel awful that Christine would’ve used a favour on me, they must thi-“

“Hey. Stop it. Christine loves you and I’m sure she’d be perfectly happy knowing her favour went towards easing your day.”

“Yeah. Y-yeah. Thanks. Uh, yeah, I sang part of ‘Best Kept Secret’ for them, did a sight-reading for them. I was the last audition of the day so we had a chat while they collected their bags, they really seemed to like me.”

“Of course they did.”

“Okay Mike, I get it, I’m the best person ever, woo-hoo.”

“Well, not quite the best, that goes to yours truly, but you place in at a close second.”

Jeremy gives a fond eye-roll. His back doesn’t hurt anymore, but the contact is comforting, so he continues on with the story.

“Hardy-har. They liked me and Jenny, the composer, called me later that week for the second round of auditions. This one had me read a minor monologue, I really like the writing in this show by the way, and they seemed happy with my acting. Then one of them said something weird about me being one of them-”

“Wait, like they got squipped too?”

“Weeeeell. I thought that too so I said something about uh, being surprised they would mention it so openly. They said something like ‘it’s pretty obvious, don’t worry it’s very common around here’.”

“Well that’s fucking threatening.”

“I thought so too so I just kind of awkwardly laughed? They seemed to think it was all fine anyway and sent me on my way. I was going to tell you about it when you got home but then I got the call for the third round of auditions and thought, maybe they’re just also a bit weird, like us. I- I showed up yesterday and it turned out they’d picked me for the part.  Belle said something about needing more people like them in the theatre world. I mentioned the squip-“

“Really? You out-right talked about the squip?”

“Well, I more mumbled it and they laughed and said something about us all being friends of Dorothy which was pr- Hey. I haven’t gotten to the funny bit yet, why are you laughing?”

“Oh my god Jeremy, do you not know about the friends of Dorothy?”

“No?”

“It’s a gay history thing, I’ll explain it to you later, but oh my god you poor, poor, hetero soul.”

“That explains … kind of a lot now that I think about it. Anyway, we were talking terms and meeting the rest of the cast and they said it was very important to them that the lead was played by a gay man. And I was pretty surprised, so I said ’Oh, but I’m not gay?’ and they apologised for assuming but said my boyfriend was pretty cute for a guy. I guess I looked pretty weirded out-”

“I bet you looked like a stunned mullet.”  
“Shush. They said ‘the guy on your phone background, Christine mentioned you live with him’ and I didn’t know what to do so I just said yeah, and told them about you and they said you sounded great, and they just have to meet you so, yeah. Lunch, today.”

“Wait, what about being married? Where’d that come from?”

 

Michael was sitting all the way up now, curved around Jeremy like they’re sitting in an old-style love seat, his hand now mostly cradling Jeremy’s back. It can’t possibly be a comfortable position for him, Jeremy realises, so he wriggles around so that they’re face to face, sitting fully on the bed with their legs crossed. This gives him the pleasure of seeing Michael’s sleepy face and mussed up hair, but also the absolute curse that is Michael’s open, trusting eyes that he can’t lie to. Although, it’s not like Jeremy can lie for shit anyway. So he takes a deep breath, braces himself and says, “Yeah, that was all on me.”

 

“Okay, but how and also why?”

“They said something about how quickly relationships can fall apart when put under the stress of a broadway production, especially if they’re new, and I got a bit defensive, because I love you, man, and we got through a computer apocalypse together, we could weather a measly show!”

“So you said that we’re married? Despite the fact that we don’t have rings? Or are even dating?”

“Well, I said that we’ve known each other for 15 years, and Belle said that that was a really long time to know each other but only be dating, which was kind of rude and out of character for her. Anyway, I got super defensive and just blurted it out! Wait- why. Michael are you crying?”

 

Michael’s shoulders are shaking and he’s letting out little gasping hiccups which Jeremy associates far, far too strongly with Michael crying and oh my god, he’s made Michael cry again, did he say something offensive, is the idea of being married to Jeremy so awful, oh g-

 

“Oh my fucking god, Jer. I can’t believe you did that!” Michael raises his head out of his hand, his cheeks are bright red and there are tears streaming down them but he’s smiling so hard it looks like his face might split in two. “You thought they were squipped and ended up outing me and making it so that we have to pretend to be married for an entire musical production and season because you were defensive about our friendship. You fucking idiot, I love you.”

“I- I love you too Michael.”

“Oh my god that’s so fucking funny, I need to text Christine-“

“Okay maybe that can wait.” Jeremy blushed. This was a stupid enough mistake without having to invite the rest of the gang in on it. “We need to get ready though, that took way longer than I thought. C’mon, up, put on your nice clothes.”

“Michael, c’mon shower and put your clothes on.”

“Michael, stop laughing, we need to go.”

“Dude! Stop laughing!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for all the support. I ended up writing just over 2k in one sitting, which is terrible because I have a million other things to do but there we are. My word kinda gave up the ghost on formatting so sorry if this looked super weird. Also, someone please tell me if "stunned mullet" is an Australian only phrase. Love ya all, it is 4.30am so g'night, please continue to comment and kudos i love Validation
> 
> Also, next chapter we will examine just how heteronormative Jeremy's worldview is (aka he is oblivious as hell), and the ethics of pretending to be something ur not to get something u want (aka it's not ethical, but it also might not actually be pretending)


	4. domestic bliss (or a version thereof)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jenna gives amazing presents, jeremy thinks about how they got to where they are now and also tries to not think about the concept of love

As Michael squeezes into their bathroom, still giggling, to try and tidy up for the lunch, Jeremy thinks about how they got here. Not really here as in their flat, or here as in their marriage problem, because that’s an issue that Jeremy wants to avoid until he can’t any more, but here as in who they are right now. Who they are, as two twenty-something guys, Michael giggling away in the bathroom and singing show-tunes obnoxiously off-key because he knows it’ll pull Jeremy out of his own head, and Jeremy laughing at Michael’s heinous rendition of ‘One Day More’ as he brews their coffee in matching cheesy ‘his’ and ‘hers’.

 

The mugs are truly ugly, presented by them by a laughing Jenna as a combination farewell and housewarming present when they were packing up the Cruiser right after graduation. Jeremy has absolutely no clue where she ordered the mugs from, but they have photo from a childhood sleepover facing outwards, Jeremy and Michael’s faces, youthful and soft, mashed cheek to cheek asleep. When the mugs are slotted together the picture becomes whole, and Jeremy is frankly pretty worried about where she got that photo from, given that it was just Michael and Jeremy at that sleep over, and what other photos she might have. When he’s asked her, she winked in response which did absolutely nothing to assuage his fears.

 

Jeremy ended up with the ‘hers’ mug because it has his face on it. Plus it’s smaller, and he’s anxious enough without the extra coffee that Michael needs to get going in the morning. He plays at the skin on his ring finger while he waits for the coffee to brew, twisting an invisible ring.

 

As loathe as he is to admit it, Jeremy is still a virgin. He knows, factually, that it’s not because he’s ugly or un-loveable or anything that he would have thought 4 years ago, but those feelings still creep up on him. It’s hard, sometimes, to reconcile his age with the fact he hasn’t ever had a relationship that lasted longer than a few months. He had loved Christine, still loves Christine, but their time together in high school had had a shaky basis to say the least. When Christine had come out to him as aro/ace, he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad or depressed, just vaguely relieved that there was one less thing on his plate before graduation. She’d explained to him how she loved him, it went without saying but they had all learnt to assure each other anyway, but she had always assumed she hadn’t felt attraction because she’d never had it directed at her. Dating was, in her words, like trying to act out a part where you can read the words but you can’t really understand why you’d make the motions. It had been … one of the weirder conversations he’d had, but by far the least painful break-up in their high school’s history.

 

After the incident with Chloe at Jake’s Halloween party, and really everything that happened with the squip, Jeremy became paranoid about consent and physical contact for a long time. His second girlfriend ended up dumping him because he wouldn’t touch her unless she initiated it. She’d tried to talk to him about it, saying that is he was gay that was fine, but he should stop stringing her along. Unable to keep up with a good reason that wasn’t ‘I was traumatised by a computer that lived inside my brain’, he’d simply let the relationship fall apart. He tries not to think about the fact that he was happy being snuggled into Michael’s side for hours after that relationship’s eventual demise, even though hours earlier he couldn't even hug his girlfriend. Jeremy tries not to question the things that are working out in his life anymore, especially how most of those good things seem to loop back around to Michael. Michael, who is standing in the kitchen doorway, and by the look on his face has been standing there for a while.

 

“Are you sure you’re fine going to the lunch today? You were pretty zoned out there.”

“Y- yeah. I wasn’t actually thinking about that anyway.”

“Sure, man. Can you pass me the coffee?”

“Yeah.”

 

Jeremy thinks about how they got here, two men leaning against a dirty kitchen counter and drinking out of matching coffee mugs. It makes him smile against the rim of his cup until he accidentally smacks the ceramic against his teeth when he goes to take another a sip.

 

“Oh my god dude, are you alright?”

“Ow, haha, yeah. It’s fine, it didn’t actually hurt, I just surprised myself.”

“Seriously, are you sure about the lunch? You could always say you’re sick or something.”

“It’ll be fine. You’re already dressed and ready to go and hey, you’re already dressed?”

“Yep. You’ve been standing here staring off into middle distance for ten minutes. I even put on some concealer, just to make sure I don’t look like a zombie in front of your future employers.”  
“Oh, yeah, I just mean, y’know.”

“No, Jeremy, I don’t know. That wasn’t a sentence.”  
“…. You look really good.”

Michael’s face immediately goes bright red, and he tries to play it off by striking an exaggerated modelling pose, blue steel and all.

“Obviously married life has been treating me well.”

Jeremy rolls his eyes, pointedly and where Michael can definitely see him, and swiped the empty mug of out Michael’s hands.

“Give me that. I’ll wash these up and then we’ll leave.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Dude, you’re still wearing the clothes you went to the audition in, you need to get changed. And also probably shower. I’ll wash out our adorable mugs, and you’ll go get ready.”

As he’s shooed out of the kitchen, Jeremy rubs his hands through his hair. God, today is going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy, another 1k. sorry this is so short, I have to move country in two weeks so it's a bit hectic. from here on out I'll probably be updating every other day, rather than every day.  
> oh yeah, jeremy is 21 in this story and michael is 22. they're not a full year apart, only 6 months. I realised as i finished up this chapter that michael actually couldn't work in a bar in america if he was under 21 so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ some age finagling  
> thank you all for your comments, kudos and support, you're a wonderful gang, i'll try and get into the comments to chat sometime tomorrow
> 
> also my illustration is on tumblr [here](http://media-mumbles.tumblr.com/post/161949887339)


	5. Jeremy is oblivious as hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is doing fine. No, really. He's great. Jeremy does his best and still fails sometimes.

Michael washes up the mugs, cheeks still hot from Jeremy’s compliment. It’s not like they don’t compliment each other normally, Michael compliments Jeremy probably much, much, more than the other way around. He gets it, of course, he doesn’t have the fine bone structure that Jeremy does, the sharp, angular planes, and he sure doesn’t get hit on nearly as much. Sure, Michael gets hit on by some of his customers at the café and bar, but those encounters are either weirdly polite or incredibly drunk, and invariably uncomfortable. He could definitely go out and find a man to shower him with compliments if he wanted, but he’d rather live with the knowledge that he’s not much better at social interaction than he was in high school, rather than risk being rejected. Plus, where would he even take these hypothetical dates? Certainly not back to his already shared single-bed, and he doesn’t much like the idea of being murdered in some random man’s penthouse suite. So he stays. He’s happy, he functions like he should, and really he has no time for dating anyway. Seeing Rich and Jake, so happy together, totally didn’t make him feel like he’s missing out at all. Nope. Not at all.

 

He’s doing spectacularly.

 

No. Really.

 

He stares at his soapy hands blankly, before shaking himself. What he’s got is good, it really is. He has a group of really dedicated friends now, one of the best friends a guy could ask for, a solid income and he’s out from under his parents’ thumbs. He couldn’t ask for much more, except for maybe a best friend who can lie to save his life. He smiles softly at the photo of them printed on the mug. It was different when they were younger, easier in a lot of ways. Before the squip if was just them, which was great and all, but the addition of five new friends means they both have more people to talk about problems with. Michael no longer bears the full brunt of Jeremy bemoaning his crushes and anxieties, and Michael actually has people he can talk to about LGBTQA issues and memes who can maybe understand them. And now, they’re in a weird limbo; it just them almost constantly but also they still have their friends constantly within contact range. Schrodinger’s flatmates, if you will.

 

Something Jeremy hadn’t expected in the wake of the squip is just how much he dislikes showers. He hasn’t had a shower lasting more than two minutes since then, because standing under the water is relaxing until he starts thinking. His teenage ritual of using the sound of the running water as cover for personal activities was pretty cleanly destroyed by the squip. Even so, the pressure of water on his skin is soothing until he starts looking at himself, and he starts thinking about his body, sharp and gangly still where Michael is soft and welcoming, he still has faint scars running up his wrists and spine, fine white lines against already pale skin. The shower, at least, is preferable to the mirror. The knowledge that they need to leave really soon at least stops Jeremy from his morning ritual of staring at his own face until it becomes an unrecognisable composite of acne scars, dark bags and sharp lines. Instead, he smears on some concealer, avoids making eye contact with his reflection and grabs a brush to try and fight his hair while they walk.

 

 

Michael’s lounging outside the apartment when Jeremy leaves, and smiles encouragingly at him.

 

“Looking good, man. Except you got concealer on your eyebrow, I don’t even know how.”  
Michael’s thumb swipes over his eyebrow and Jeremy pulls back a fraction at the warm contact. His hand freezes in middair, before dropping back down to his side.

“Well, okay, it’s gone now.”

It’s not until they’re finished locking up that Michael tenses, and asks the inevitable question, “How the fuck are we going to pretend to be married?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been married. I mean, Jenny and Belle both thought we were dating from my phone background so that’s something?”

“It’s still that photo from graduation, isn’t it? That’d make sense as an assumption, given the huge pride flag I painted on my graduation cap.”

“Actually, nope. It’s from when we went to ‘Mortality Play’ last month.”  
“Well, at least they won’t think I still look like a high-schooler then.”

 

They fall silent as they walk to the subway, Jeremy pre-occupied with looking up the best route, Michael thinking about how much that day really had felt like a date, dinner and a play with both of them dressed up nice. He’d spent a lot of the evening avoiding obviously checking Jeremy out in his suit.

It’s Jeremy that breaks the silence this time.

 

“O-okay so, really, how are we going to do this?”

“I mean, we already do most of the stuff married people do, like live together and say ‘I love you’ and spend all our time together, just without the romance or the sex.”

Jeremy tries to ignore the blush that rises in his cheeks at the mention of sex.

“Yeah, but how will we convince them that we’re married? We don’t even have rings. What if we have to kiss?”

“Dude. Don’t worry too much. Think about it like this, we may well make Jenna piss her pants laughing when we tell her about this, and Rich and Jake already think it’s hilarious. It’s pretty funny when you think about, so instead of worrying, just do what you’ll normally do, except maybe we’ll hold hands more. It’s not like you see many married couples flat out making out at business lunches, we’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I know, you’re right. Wait- Did you say Rich and Jake think it’s funny?”

“Yeah?”  
“When did you tell them?”

“Last night, they came to Game Over. Apparently they’ve moved to New York too, they’ve invited us along to dinner.”

 

Jeremy’s response is swallowed up in the crowd as they get off the train, and he shoots his hand out to catch in Michael’s, keeping them tethered together as they’re buffeted by the people milling around them.

 

“See,” Michael says, “We’ve got part of our plan down already.”

Jeremy leans in to respond, having to go up on his toes a little to reach Michael’s ear.

“There’s a guy over there holding sheet music and staring at you. He’s waving.”

“What?”

 

Jeremy gestures with their clasped hand at towards the end of the platform, and Michael lets out a little laugh when he sees the barbershop quartet singer who’d saved him from falling yesterday. He waves back with his free hand, and outright laughs when the guy gives a really exaggerated wink back.

 Jeremy sends Michael a questioning look, and gets a shrug in response. He tries to ignore the heavy feeling in his stomach at the interaction, and the way that Michael humming along to the song the quartet starts singing annoys him for no real reason.

Michael tugging at their joined hands pulls him out of his thoughts and out of the station, into the brisk air.

 

“Which way?”

“It’s only a couple of blocks from here, we’ll probably get there a little early.”  
“Alright. Want to tell me about the show and the women running it while we walk? Some quick revision probably wouldn’t hurt.”

“Shouldn’t we make up a fake backstory for our relationship?”

“Jeremy, dude. Why would we? We just take everything we already have together and randomly decide a time to start dating. How about final year of high school, we started dating, then moved to New York together.”

“W- well. Yeah, I guess that works. So we've been "dating" for four-ish years?”

“Yep. So? About the lovely ladies I’ll be meeting today, and the obviously amazing show my best friend will be starring in?”

“Well, I really don’t know that much about it, a lot of it is quite hush-hush at the moment-“

“ ‘Hush-hush’? Who even says that?”  
“Me, obviously. Anyway, so far I’ve met Jenny, the composer, and Belle, the writer. Belle is the taller of the two. From what I’ve got from the excerpts I’ve sight read, it’s kind of like that movie ‘Easy A’, except a gay coming of age story about a closeted high schooler, and it’s actually super funny.”

“Are you going to have to sing songs about gay sex?”

“I- I mean, yeah, probably? Why?”

“It’s going to be so fucking funny dude. Look at you, you’re already blushing at the thought of having sing about wanting dick.”

 

Jeremy is indeed blushing, face hot and cheeks red. Michael laughing into his shoulder isn’t really helping, so he detaches their hands, which he hadn’t even realised were still tangled together, and tries to walk ahead.

 

“Oh, no, Jeremy! Sorry, I didn’t mean to make fun of you.”

“No, it’s okay, I‘m just kind of embarrassed about roping you into this anyway. God, maybe I should just call it quits, this is stupid.”

“No, dude, no. This’ll be a great opportunity for you, you’ve been working your ass off at college, you deserve something good in return and this could definitely be it. Plus, I’m sure you’ll be great, singing about cock and all.”

Jeremy blushes again this time, but at least he’s giggling along with Michael.

“Yeah, they said I looked perfect for the part.”

This sends Michael off in another fit of giggles, until Jeremy realises what he’s said and starts laughing as well, slapping Michael on the shoulder.

“Hey, hey, no hitting, Jeremy!” Michael laughs. “That’s no way to treat your loving husband!”

 

As they walk up to the café they’re still giggling together, shoulders bumping. They separate when they get inside the doors, but Michael laces their fingers together as Jeremy talks to the waiter. Just as they’re getting settled in to their table, wedged in together and hands clasped loosely on the tabletop, Jeremy breathes out, “Oh, here they are.”

Michael cranes his neck to have a look at the two women entering the doors, smiles invitingly, and then begins a rushed, whispered conversation with Jeremy.

 

“Dude, you didn’t tell me that they’re wlw.”

“What the fuck is wlw.”

“Seriously? Women loving women?”  
“What?”

“They’re lesbians, Jeremy.”  
“Oh, really?”

“Really, Jeremy? Dear god, Jake was right, you’re completely oblivious.”

 

Jeremy stands up to shake hands with Jenny and Belle, and waits while Michael does the same. He lets out a small, “Huh.” As they all sit down. Michael glances over to see that Jeremy is now, apparently finally, take in Belle’s plaid collared shirt, Jenny’s purple undercut, their clasped hands and matching silver and gold rings.

“Huh”, Jeremy says.

Michael very strongly resists the urge to plant his face straight into his plate, and braces himself for a hell of a business lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo, still no beta so please tell me if i screwed anything up. barbershop quartet guy is gonna be a recurring character, the song the quartet is singing is the quartet part from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j-DnFRbp_BY) , please suggest names for him. also please comment, i love my wife named Validation, see ya in two days


	6. the beginning of the end (somewhat)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A work lunch, an interview and the slow burning start to a realisation

They’ve only just ordered their food, and Michael can already tell he likes Jenny and Belle. Their first few minutes of conversation were a little stilted, with Jeremy’s nervous laughter composing most of his side of the conversation, and all four of them obviously not really knowing how work lunches actually function. The tension is easily broken after Jenny plants her hands on the table and says, “Okay, let’s just acknowledge that business lunches are weird. Alright? Alright? Good. Is that a trans pride flag on your phone case, Michael?”

 

Michael’s laughter and agreements leads straight into a discussion on the importance of intersectionality in feminism, and then a discussion of race in the queer community. Michael learns that Belle is Vietnamese but immigrated to the US when she was 5, she has a biting wit and high ambitions for the show. He learns that Jenny, although African-American, spent her formative years in France and only moved back to the US a few years ago, and harbours a secret passion for Phantom Of The Opera, 8-Bit games and olden-goldies movie stars.

 

Their food and coffee have arrived, and started getting cold, by the time that Belle pulls them back on track to discuss the musical itself. They talk finances and plot for a while, hashing out details for payment and rehearsals, and then, like old friends, fall back into casual conversation.

 

It’s a month later when all four of them meet at the same café again, prepping Jeremy before his first ever official interview. It’s really a simple puff piece about the themes of musical for a queer theatre zine that one of Belle’s friends publishes. They all know, abstractly, that it isn’t that important but to them, it matters all the more for being their first interview. Each of them takes turns quizzing Jeremy on the premise of the musical (“A gay high school junior becomes embroiled in an ever-expanding web of lies while trying to stay in the closet, and to know the end you’ll have to come along.”), the themes of the musical (“Unrequited love, self-discovery, incredibly complex con jobs, everything you expect from a teen rom-com.”) and Jeremy’s current relationship (“Hey, I don’t see how that’s relevant.”)

“Of course it is, Jeremy.” Jenny explains. “You have a great story that really helps sell the musical as a whole.”

“I mean, not really.”

“Sure you do.” Belle chimes in. “Two teenage boys move together from small-town New Jersey to New York on a shoe-string budget and a whim and within years become a rising theatre star and dedicated husband. You guys are an interracial couple, live in a terrible apartment, and obviously love each other a hell of a lot; you’re practically the posterboys of modern musical theatre.”

 

It’s a sentiment Jeremy’s interviewer obviously shares, because within ten minutes into their one hour studio slot, they’ve pulled another chair up for Michael next to Jeremy. Quickly, the questions become less directed at Jeremy alone and rather at the both of them. Jeremy stops bouncing his leg nervously when Michael’s thigh presses up against his, and they tangle their hands together. Their rings clink together softly, lent to them by an incredibly amused Jake and Rich with a promise on death that they will not, under any circumstances, lose or damage the rings. Rich was smiling when he swore them to the promise but Michael has no doubts that their wellbeing rates below the wedding rings to both Rich and Jake. Jeremy sends Michael a watery smile, and Michael smiles and squeezes his hand in return, a sign of solidarity throughout the interview. Michael mostly fends questions off to Jeremy, mainly because Jeremy is the focus of the piece and the one who has rehearsed, while Michael has little filter when he starts rambling. He does a good job of being the supportive, silent husband until the interviewer straightens up in their chair and taps their pencil on their writing pad.  
“Alright so, what do you love best about each other?”

“U-um, not to be rude, but why?”  
“Well, our readers love the relationships between stage actors, on-screen and off. It gives us a little extra to add to pull-quotes and taglines, and gives me an idea on what to focus on for your portraits.”

Michael chooses to put aside the plural ‘portraits’ for the moment, and squeezes Jeremy’s hand again in preparation for rambling confession of his love for Jere-

“I- I guess I love his hands.” Michael almost drops Jeremy’s hand when he starts talking, so taken aback that Jeremy, still steadfastly not meeting Michael’s eyes, has even vaguely thought to rehearse for this answer. “We first bonded over a love of videogames and he still plays them now, and really I just love whenever he does anything with his hands, they’re really expressive and an extension of his personality? And, uh, Michael’s a very comfortable perso-“

“That bit about the gaming is interesting, but I actually meant personality-wise. We have plenty of good-looking actors out there, but we want something meaty to concrete you as the burgeoning off-broadway sweethearts you could become.”

Jeremy goes bright red at the interviewer’s interrupting, and purses his lips together to keep from stammering, trying to think of what to say. Michael takes pity on him, grateful for even that small burst of compliments.  
“Jeremy is a great listener, not something you hear about most musical actors.” Michael laughs. “Back in high school, we weren’t very popular for a long time, and even then I felt like I could tell him anything. Our lives really got shook up in junior year, and since then he’s been a really determined person, he works towards goals no matter how personally hard they are for him, but he doesn’t leave his friends behind.”

“Anymore.” Jeremy mutters darkly to himself, which makes the interviewer perk up.

“Anymore? Care to elaborate on that?” they ask.

“No.” Jeremy and Michael respond in unison.

The interviewer’s shoulders slump, then they shrug.

“Ah well, Michael that was very good. And you, Jeremy?”

“U- um. Michael is the single most comforting and supportive people I have ever had in my life, and sometimes I still can’t believe he’s kept with me this long. He puts everything aside to help his friends, and he loves everything and everyone whole-heartedly.” Jeremy trails off at the end, now staring at the toes of his boots, ears a hot red.

 

While their interviewer goes off to double check their camera equipment, Michael leans over to Jeremy.

“Nice, did you prepare that?”

“Mm-hmm.” Is the only response Michael gets, Jeremy apparently still far too invested in scuffing his shoe against the floor.

 

Michael shrugs off the unease that settles over him whenever he gets a monosyllabic answer from Jeremy, the deja-vu to the half-year when they still stuttered and edged their way around each other after the incident. Jeremy’s still probably nervous. And he’s probably embarrassed about giving the wrong answer earlier. It’s fine.

 

 

The photoshoot goes fine until the final few shots, when it feels like everything comes crashing down around Michael’s ears.

The interviewer waggles their camera at Michael to get his attention from where he’s been staring off into middle distance.

“You’re up now.”

“What? But I’m not even in the musical.”

“I know, but it’ll seem odd if we have this personality and relationship discussion with Jeremy without his husband in it at all.”

“B-but-“

“It’s fine, it’ll just be two photos, you’re almost certainly photogenic so it’ll be over quickly.”

Michael meets Jeremy’s eyes, shrugs and gets a shrug in response. Sure, why not.

“One portrait, and then one of you kissing or cuddling.”

Oh hell no.

The portrait goes fine, according to their interviewer, but Michael is sure his shoulders are up by his ears and he’s probably bright red thinking about the next photo.

 

For some reason, that Michael can’t identify but is probably shock, all Michael can think about as they get ready for the couple’s photo is ‘Jenna is going to make us a new set of mugs with this photo on it.’

The lead up to the photo is clinical, their interviewer posing and moving them, until Michael looks up and makes direct eye contact with Jeremy.

“Okay, go.”

“Go?” Michael breaks eye contact to stare at their interviewer, although he can still feel Jeremy’s stare burning on his cheek. “As in, we just make out for a bit while you take photos?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

 

Well, here goes nothing. Michael leans forwards, and catches a glimpse of Jeremy leaning in as well, and their lips meet. It is unromantic to say the least. No sparks fly, he doesn’t feel warmth pool in his chest, Jeremy’s finger’s don’t tangle in his hair. They stand for a few seconds, lips smushed awkwardly against each other, before breaking apart to look at their interviewer. Their interviewer who is giving them a dead-pan stare, and who, apparently, hasn’t taken a single photo of their horrible kiss.

‘Seriously? Give it a bit more of the love that you guys have, or else everyone will think I’ve just made this whole thing up, which will be useless for all of us.”

 

Michael’s right in the middle of rolling his eyes when he feels lips hit his again. The lips are the same, but it somehow feels more gentle, and this time, at least for Michael, the sparks do fly, he does feels the warmth, and his hands tighten in the back of Jeremy’s dress shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiya, i have had what can only be described as a heinous day which i probably didn't help by writing 1.5k of fic at 3am. still got no beta so tell me if I screwed something up, but i wanted to get this up for u guys sooner rather than later, sorry for being late. i actually wrote an outline of the musical that jeremy is in but it has no bearing at the moment so whatever


	7. no-one was prepared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're both emotionally constipated, and Michael is like 3 seconds away from bursting with love.  
> \- There's scene about 3/4 through this chapter which mentions people kissing while drunk. Both parties were willing and consensual and aware at the time, but they were definitely both drunk so y'know, warning you now. -

Michael’s right in the middle of rolling his eyes when he feels lips hit his again. The lips are the same, but it somehow feels more gentle, and this time, at least for Michael, the sparks do fly, he does feels the warmth, and his hands tighten in the back of Jeremy’s dress shirt.

 

He hears Jeremy gasp, and the click of a shutter.

 

He feels soft lips on his and, holy shit, is Jeremy dipping him backwards? They aren’t bending very far because Michael has the height advantage, but yeah, Jeremy is definitely dipping Michael backwards, hands wrapped around his bicep and waist.

 

He hears the shutter click again and the warmth rising through his chest slows down, and comes to a halt. His lips stop tingling and he becomes all too aware of where his hands are wrapped in the back of Jeremy’s shirt. He feels sweaty and hot and gross, waiting for the shutter to click for a third time so he can break the embrace. Michael stumbles as soon as they break apart, hands slipping off of Jeremy’s shoulders, and he feels like he’s back at the train station on the night that Jeremy had sprung the whole plan on him, caught off guard, panicked and stupidly willing to do anything for Jeremy.

 

Jeremy’s hand is still wrapped around his bicep and it’s burning him but he can’t very well shake his grip off, not while they’re here in front of the interviewer. Instead, Michael gives Jeremy a quick smile avoiding eye-contact, and turns to the interviewer.

 

“Are those good enough?”

 

“Probably.”

 

Michael sighs in relief.

 

“But we should get some more for good measure, maybe with this red backdrop, currently the white is washing out Jeremy and the camera is really ruining your features, Michael.”

 

Michael tenses at the thought of having to pose for more photos, and Jeremy lets out a pained noise, and oh god, Jeremy’s still holding his arm and probably felt him tense up and he’s probably realising how much the kiss really affected Michael.

 

As they’re shuffled into place by the interviewer, Michael gainfully doesn’t shake Jeremy’s grip on his arm off, but he doesn’t do much to make eye contact either. Jeremy lets out a chuckle at their new backdrop, a deep red fabric, strung from a frame and pooling around their feet.

 

“It’s the same colour as your old hoodie.”

 

Jeremy’s low murmur makes Michael look back up, staring straight into his wide eyes rather than looking at just how wet Jeremy’s lips are.

 

“It was a good hoodie, dude.”

 

“Never said it wasn’t.” Jeremy replies, absently chewing on his lip and turning it a lush pink which matches the blush high on his cheeks. “It was a- a good co- colour on you, but that hoodie stank of weed.”

 

Michael chuckles, which makes Jeremy chuckle too. Jeremy glances over at where the interviewer is finishing fiddling with the lighting, and leans in to whisper to Michael.

 

“I’m really sorry about roping you into this. We can always call it quits if you want.”

  
“Wh- no, uh, it’s fine. I already said this was all fine, dude, from the very start.”

 

“I know, but I don’t think either of us was prepared for _this_ so, y’know, sorry.”

 

Michael’s heart sinks at the reminder, yet again, that this is all for play, and he knows it’s fucking stupid okay, but when it’s just the two of them, it’s really easy to forget about everything else.

 

Jeremy continues, “I actually got you a thank you present for dealing with me, so I think it’ll be well deserved after this awkward interview is over.”

 

“What?”

 

“A present. Waiting at home. To thank you for dealing with me and this.”

 

Thankfully, before Michael can blurt out that it’s really not a struggle to kiss Jeremy, the camera shutter goes off again.

 

There’s a sparkle in Jeremy’s eyes, a shared laughter at the ludicrousness of what they’re doing, and god help him, Michael leans back in willingly.

 

 

In all the mess of signing release paperwork and trading promises with the interviewer that they’ll all proof-read the piece before release, Michael forgets about his promised present until he and Jeremy are piling into their flat again.

 

Jeremy’s thrown himself down in one of their beanbags, a stupid thing for two grown men to own but they’re sentimental, so sue them. He flops his head back, and the tensions seeps out of him in one long sigh.

 

“You know, one of the few good things that happened in junior year is that I finally got good posture.”

  
“Huh?”

 

“If, you know, that hadn’t all happened I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t have ever gotten through play rehearsal, and I certainly wouldn’t have been able to sit up straight for a full hour of photographs.”

 

They laugh softly, and Jeremy flops his head to face Michael, a goofy smile on his, damn it, still red lips.

“I’m glad I’m here, dude.”

 

“Of course, you deserve all this!”

  
“No, Michael. I- I’m glad we’re here together.”

  
“Oh.”

 

“Not that this is ever how I might’ve imagined being married but ah well.”

 

Jeremy’s laughing to himself, cheeks red and facing the ceiling now, and misses the pained smile that Michael plasters on. It’s hard to hear Jeremy talk positively about the squip, or to hear him talk about how phony their marriage is, let alone both in the same conversation.

 

Michael leaves Jeremy to his pensive laughter, and wanders into their bedroom to strip out of his clothing. Lucky, really, that he’d dressed up to chat with Jenny and Belle. God knows how he would have felt if they’d had to take those pictures with Jeremy in one of his threadbare shirts and worn jeans.

 

He’s fishing for his sleep shirt in his side of the drawers when he hears Jeremy speaking again, slightly hoarse and much closer than before. He turns around while pulling his shirt on, and has to pause for a moment to re-adjust his glasses, pulled half off his nose by his shirt.

 

“Sorry, what was that? I wasn’t listening.”

 

Jeremy laughs at little from where he’s leaning against their doorjamb.

 

“You’re better at that than I remember.”

 

“Better at what? Putting on a shirt?”

 

“No, kissing.”

 

Two simple words that make Michael freeze, hand still tangled in his semi-gelled hair, staring in blank horror at Jeremy. Jeremy, who apparently _does_ remember that first, awful, game they played of Truth or Dare with the squip squad, drunk on shitty mixed drinks in Jake’s basement, the summer after junior year.

 

“I- I didn’t think you remembered that at all.”

 

“I didn’t remember properly the next day, but I got bits and pieces over the next week.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Rich brought it up the other day, apparently he found some old photos from that night. Do you remember Jake getting put into drag, and lip-syncing to Wicked?”

 

“I’m going to murder Rich.”

 

“What, dude?”

 

“I said, uh, yeah, he had, um, really bad pitch.”

 

“Yeah, that was funny.”

Jeremy trails off, looking into middle distance, reminiscing. Michael toys with the bottom of his sleep shirt, feeling possibly even more uncomfortable than when they were taking photos earlier.

 

“Uh, Jeremy?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“If you remembered, why didn’t you ever bring it up before?”

 

“I- I mean, same question to you, dude.”

Michael winces, and resists the overwhelming urge to respond with ‘I asked you first.’ Instead, he answers as honestly as he can.

 

“I mean, I’d only just come out as gay to you, I don’t think I’d even told the whole group yet. I don’t know, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if you didn’t remember it, and, you know, I felt super guilty because you were pretty drunk when Rich dared us, and I shouldn’t have kissed you when you were drunk.”

 

Jeremy looks sharply at him at the last comment, finally realising how uneasy the whole conversation is making Michael. He strides forward and grabs onto Michael’s hand where he’s ripping at the threads on the bottom of his shirt.

 

“Hey, hey, you were drunk too. And although that doesn’t give anyone permission to do st- stuff while someone’s drunk, I did it willingly. It was a dare, it was funny, it was just a kiss.”

 

“Yeah, I guess. I did feel really bad though, so sorry for doing that.”

 

“It’s fine, I know you had a crush on me, I probably would’ve jumped at the chance to kiss Christine, drunkenly or not, if I could. In fact, I ate a computer to kiss her, and we both know how that worked out. Yea- Hey, Michael are you okay?”

 

Michael is not okay. Michael is very not okay. Michael’s jerked back from Jeremy like he’s been slapped, their fingertips now resting against each other rather than wrapped together. Jeremy knew about his crush. Jeremy knew about his fucking crush and he’s never said anything about it, probably laughing at him this entire time. Jeremy knows that Michael kissed him while he was drunk and had a crush and definitely hates him now and is going to leave him alone for being sad and pathetic.

 

Michael lets out a strangled noise of agreement.

 

“Crush?” Michael manages to squeak out.

 

Jeremy laughs, “Yeah, Jenna said something about it the other day, you know, how it’s pretty funny you had a crush on me all those years ago.”

 

“Mm-hmm.” Michael manages to squeeze out.

 

“Obviously I didn’t believe her at first because it’s Jenna, but Chloe and Brooke both agreed with her.”

 

Michael now has another three people to add to his hit list if he makes it out of this conversation alive.

 

Jeremy continues blithely, “I obviously never noticed, I mean, I didn’t realise Jake and Rich were dating until I walked in on them grinding that one time. Eurgh, I never want to see that again. Anyway, it’s pretty funny in retrospect. Obviously it’s all gone now, but it was pretty funny when Jenna pointed it out. I mean, who would’ve imagined Michael marrying his high-school sweetheart?”

 

Jeremy laughs and bumps his shoulder, then pulls away. Michael tries to laugh too, in agreement and absolute confirmation that ‘yep, he’s definitely not still super in love with his best friend’. He mostly sounds like he’s dying, but Jeremy’s too busy digging in his side of the drawers.

 

He straightens back up with a triumphant noise, singing the Zelda success tune and holding up a floppy package like Simba in The Lion King.

 

“Anyway, thanks for putting up with me being oblivious through all of high school, and also with me somehow signing us up for holy matrimony. I got you a little gift. Brooke taught me how to sew, so appreciate the amount of pinpricks in my fingers that went into this.”

 

Jeremy is grinning as he hands the gift over and, ignoring Michael’s prolonged heart attack and possible hallucinations that he’s currently living through, it’s been a good day. He'll happily stave off a conversation about the crush he harboured for years, to prolong the good memories of today. Plus, Michael is now burningly curious about what on earth Jeremy has sewn for him.

 

He mumbles out a, “No worries dude.” and tears into the wrapping paper on the soft package Jeremy has handed him. What emerges, from underneath the crinkling paper, is red like the backdrop from today, like a Jeremy’s tongue coming out to wet his lips, red like his high school hoodie. Red, in fact, exactly like his high school hoodie. He shakes the soft fabric fully out of its wrapping, paper landing in a rough pile at their bare feet. What he holds in his hands is a brand new version of his old hoodie, complete with all his old patches, along with a few new patches and pins dotted one.

 

“It was going to be a birthday present, but I hate waiting to give presents.”

 

It is the single most sentimental thing anyone has ever given Michael.

 

“Hey, and this one doesn’t smell like weed because it’s brand new, sewn by yours truly!”

 

It is so, so soft.

 

“Hey. Hey, M- Michael, are you okay? You’ve gone pretty silent, dude.”

 

Michael realises belatedly that there are slight tears on his cheeks which, god bless his oblivious soul, Jeremy thankfully hasn’t yet noticed. He wraps Jeremy is a tight hug and says, words muffled in the shoulder of Jeremy’s dress shirt, “Thanks, Jeremy. I’m in love with you.”

 

“Dude, of course. Thank you for dealing putting up with all this fake marriage bullshit, I love you too. Now, time for dinner, I’m starving.”

 

As Jeremy heads to their kitchenette, Michael stand in a small pile of wrapping paper staring at the hoodie in his hands.

 

He mouths the words, ‘I’m in love with you.’ at the red fabric. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Thank god, Jeremy hadn’t heard him properly.

 

He throws on the hoodie and tries his best to ignore the fact that, somehow, it already smells like Jeremy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your support, guys! You are the bomb-diggety. (my day was made a lot better by all of u) The updating schedule might get a bit funky after the next chapter, I promise I’m not dead and I haven’t forgotten this fic, I’ll just be travelling for two weeks so my ability to upload will be a bit buggered.  
> [edit: just fixing some spelling mistakes lol sorry i love u all]


	8. jeremy u emotionally dense fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hello naughty children, it's jeremy's point of view time

Michael’s up and out of the house before Jeremy, the next day. Jeremy rolls over into the still warm sheets and hears something crinkle underneath him. Fishing around under his chest, he located a note and pulls it out to squint at it in the early light. It’s a reminder in Michael’s familiar writing, the paper still a little crumpled, that ‘we have dinner with rich and jake tonight. have fun at rehearsal, don’t forget dinner. we’ll meet at the station, love you.’

 

The little scratchy ‘love u’, no more rare or special than any other, sends a burst of warmth through his chest, as does Michael’s drawing on the back of the paper. The scrap of paper is their left over shopping list from last Thursday, so Michael’s doodle of Jake and Rich has been squished in around the usual list of milk, eggs, “healthy stuff” and ice-cream. Jeremy had never thought that a shopping list could make him feel so at home, but even three years after moving in together, the sheer domesticity of living with Michael make him feel warm and fuzzy and, mostly importantly, safe.

 

It’s- well- It would be difficult for Jeremy to ever explain out loud, but there’s something about found family that’s always made him feel good. It’s not that Jeremy’s dad was bad per se, more just that he wasn’t much of a dad. He doesn’t hate him, or anything like that at all, he’s more …… it’s that knowing that there are people that actively look out for him and care for him even though they don’t have any obligation, it just sits right with Jeremy. So, maybe, he’s milking this fake marriage for a bit more than he needs to. He likes holding hands, okay, so sue him. Lying in the dent in the bed in the shape of Michael, he feels kind of small, both literally and emotionally. He realises, in a kind of out of body reflection, that he feels bad about taking advantage of how much Michael loves him. Or, at least, he _should_ feel bad. He feels guilty, but not guilty in the way that he usually does, the kind of guilty that presses down on his lungs and makes him want to barf and cry all at once. Instead he just- he feels like he should apologise again for roping Michael into faking with him and then making out with him, because yesterday had obviously made Michael uncomfortable. It made him so uncomfortable and uneasy and distracted that even Jeremy could tell which, he knows, really says something.

So he does apologise. He fishes his phone out from under his pillow and unlocks it. Instantly a couple of messages from Michael pop up.

 

[6:16 am] heavenormell: okay i’m actually off now, you’re amazingly still asleep, so I’m going to leave a note for u

[6:16 am] heavenormell: PS i know you’ll probably forget about the paper note so here’s another note. a phone note. i also wrote it on the fridge.

[6:17 am] heavenormell: we’re having dinner with rich and jake tonight. meet u at the station after I’m done closing at the Soda Factory, don’t forget dinner!

[6:57 am] heereortheere: thanks, i definitely won’t forget now. love u too, man

[6:57 am] heereortheere: also i am really sorry about forcing u into the making out thing yesterday

[6:57 am] heereortheere: I know it’s not what u signed up for at all, not that u signed up at all

[6:57 am] heereortheere: idk i’m sorry it made u uncomfortable, we can try and avoid it next time, just let me know

 

Jeremy doesn’t expect a response any time soon, Michael should be setting up the café to open, and Jeremy knows that the compulsive need to launch himself out of bed at 7am is going to hit in, oh, about two minutes. Instead, he sits up on the side of the bed, and forgoes his morning battle with the ghostly hold of the squip, knowing that it’s a lot harder to convince himself that it’s worth fighting his subconscious when Michael isn’t there to help. He feels it for a second, the darkness creeping in on his thoughts, a litany of weak, and worthless, and pathetic, and manipulative. His hands clench rhythmically, scars aching faintly, and he heard a crinkle and a tear. Michael’s note is scrunched up in his palm, a tear through the paper almost bisecting the tiny doodles of Jake and Rich, but not quite. He breathes in deep, hold it, and pushes it all out. He smooths out the piece of paper with his thumb, and tucks it into the back of his phone case.

 

He goes through his normal morning routine, avoiding eye contact with his reflection, avoiding looking at his own bones and skin, watering the squip (and the smaller plant, that bloomed from a squip offcut. Rich demanded they name it Kermit, but refuses to explain why.) He’s munching on his cereal when a new message alert blocks off the top of his screen, obscuring whatever the hell is happening on twitter.

 

 

[7:17 am] heavenormell: no, it’s fine dude. i thought it would make you super uncomfortable???

[7:17 am] heavenormell: and the shop is really slow right now, don’t worry, i’m not ignoring customers

[7:18 am] heereortheere: why would i be uncomfortable?

[7:18 am] heavenormell: i’m gay and you’re not?

[7:18 am] heereortheere: exactly the reason I thought ud be uncomfortable? i’ve kissed people i’m not into before, it’s kind of a part of the acting job

[7:19 am] heereortheere: if u used have a crush on me, i can see how kissing someone u used to be into would be weird

[7:19 am] heereortheere: plus if the u being gay actually bothered be u would’ve known years ago, and we wouldn’t be sharing a bed dude

[7:20 am] heavenormell: that’s … surprisingly insightful for you

[7:20 am] heereortheere: well THANKS

[7:20 am] heereortheere:  but also yeah ur right

[7:21 am] heavenormell: of course i’m right. stop worrying about me, i promise i will tell you if something is upsetting me, alright? squip squad code remember?

[7:22 am] heereortheere: okay, but really please do tell me if somethn is upsetting u. have fun at work

[7:25 am] heavenormell:  shit, customers are coming in steadily now, but right back at you.

 

Jeremy spends most of the ride to rehearsal mulling over Michael’s old crush on him. It’s hard to imagine Michael ever romantically liking him, even though he knows it kind of explains a lot about their relationship in high school. He guesses it kind of makes sense when you look at the available pool for crushes in their high school, given that Michael could only really have a hypothetical relationship with three guys in their year; Rich, Jake and himself. He feels selfish for being so glad that he was Michael’s favourite person, is Michael’s favourite person. It’s not like it matter anymore anyways.

 

Jeremy loves rehearsal, not in the same way Christine does, but he loves slipping into a different character for a few hours, smushed into a small recording studio with the rest of the cast. They’ve run into a few rough patches just in emotion and singing already, which sucks. They run through the second act again, and Jenny stops them when they hit one of the major scenes where Jeremy’s character is jealous of his love interest’s new boyfriend.

 

Jeremy’s a gangly person, and it’s hard to emote when there’s not much room to move his arms, let alone pace and express. Emoting with just his voice is still really difficult.

 

“Okay, Jeremy, try and remember you have to _sound_ bitter during this scene. Jealous but confusedly so, you don’t quite know who you’re jealous of, you just are.”

 

Jeremy tries to take in Belle’s advice but it’s frustrating and he ends up just sounding vaguely constipated.

 

“Just try and remember the last time you were jealous.”

“Th- That’s the problem, Belle. I can’t remember the last time I was jealous?”

 

“Everyone’s been jealous, Jeremy.”

“What would I be jealous of in my life? Being jealous or greedy about money or, uh, possessions doesn’t seem like it’s relevant here.”

“Surely you’ve been jealous of a partner’s friends before, even if you knew it was stupid. Even if you knew it was just you blowing it out of proportion, but you’ve probably been bitter about ex-boyfriend’s friendships before.”

 

“I- I mean, I haven’t really had any partners to be jealous about?”

 

“You were never jealous of anyone around Michael, ever?”

“Mich- Michael?”

 

“Maybe, before you dated he had a different boyfriend you envied?”

 

“O- Oh, yeah, Michael. No? Not really? I’ve always, uh, trusted him wholeheartedly I guess.”

“Damn, well, okay. You have a relationship above reproach. How about, um, you imagine him cheating on you?”

  
“He wouldn’t ever do that to anyone!”

 

Jeremy’s fists are tightening on his script and he feels so silly for how much the conversation is upsetting him in front of the rest of the major cast but Michael wouldn’t. He just wouldn’t. Regardless of how fake their relationship is.

 

“How about you imagine that Michael I seeing someone else?” interrupts Jenny. “What if you think about before you were dating, what if someone started flirting with Michael?”

 

And that, suddenly, clears it all away. In his minds eye, he imagines what it would have been like if Michael had gotten the squip and moved on without him. If Michael had chosen someone else to be his favourite person.

It seats in his chest, a writhing seed of anger and confusion and sadness. He gives the scene another go, barely noticing that his co-star is joining in, until the applause that Jenny and Belle give off dissolves the hurting thing in his chest.

 

“Yes! Much better, Jeremy! Great, okay, we’ll keep working on that in a second, but now on to John’s monologue.”

  
Jeremy smiles thinly, satisfaction and pride warm in his chest, but still unsettled by the jealousy sitting behind his lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there'll be another short chapter in a couple of hours, just gotta finish it up real quick  
> sorry that this whole thing rambles a lot, i am writing the whole thing completely off-the-cuff so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	9. Jeremy you jealous walnut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy is jealous, Michael is finally getting some attention, Christine almost ruins a surprise.  
> (also jeremy texts with proper punctuation when talking to people other than michael because he cares about his Image™)

The rest of the rehearsal passes without much issue. Jeremy really does love the musical, even though he still feels queasy about how he got the role. The lead character, Troy, that Jeremy plays actually has fairly few flat dialogue parts, and predominantly sings major chord melodies. In contrast, his eventual love interest John, played by a really nice Indian guy named Aarav, predominantly performs in slam poetry spoken word. The intersection of lilting melodies and the spoken word brings texture and depth to their dualogues and the big chorus songs. The only problem is that Aarav doesn’t have much experience with slam poetry. They finish up the rehearsal early, all vowing to ask around about getting a more experienced slam poet in as a coach.

 

[6:23 pm] heereortheere: hey, im heading over to you now, thought id catch u at work

 

Jeremy pulls his hoodie further around himself, until only his fingertips stick out of the sleeves, and taps out a message to Christine

 

[6:25 pm] heereortheere: hi christine! i was wondering if you knew anyone that would be a good coach for slam poetry or spoken word dialogue. we’re looking for someone that could do some coaching on enunciation and the like! thanks!

[6:26 pm] spacedace: Hey Jeremy, long time no speak! I’m not sure. Maybe ask Michael? He was really into that a year ago, he might know someone :)

[6:26 pm] heereortheere: really? i didn’t know that. will do, thanks!

[6:27 pm] spacedace: Happy to help :) Are you still coming to rich and jake’s place tonight?

[6:27 pm] heereortheere: yeah, i’m going? sorry, i didn’t know you were coming as well?

[6:27 pm] spacedace: Oh

[6:27 pm] spacedace: Yeah

[6:27 pm] spacedace: I think I got confused, I meant some other night

[6:28 pm] heereortheere: what? when?

[6:28 pm] heereortheere: christine?

[6:28 pm] heereortheere: alright, see you later then i guess.

 

Jeremy tries to put the conversation out of his mind as he tucks his phone away, he’s at his station anyway. As he hops out onto the platform he’s actually surprised not to hear the barbershop quartet’s normal tune echoing around the platform. That one group with the weirdly friendly guy always plays the same tune whenever they see Michael, and Jeremy’s with Michael most of the time he’s on this side of the city. Instead he hears the normal sounds of a train station, whooshing air and grumpy businessmen, tourists chatting and shoes clicking. It seems almost eerie without the music of the buskers.

 

Jeremy pushes out of the turnstiles and up, out of the station into the brisk air. He realises that he never walks to the Soda Factory without Michael, and has to stop and check his phone. He expects a message from Michael to pop up on his screen as soon as he flicks his phone on, but is surprised when nothing arrives. That’s …. odd. The café should be pretty much deserted by now, and Michael normally plays with his Spotify and Twitter until  he actually closes.

 

As he nears the café, he looks up to wave at Michael through the big windows but his hand stops in mid-air, hovering awkwardly in front of him. At the counter, bathed in a soft yellow light, is Michael. The hipster filament lightbulbs above the register flicker ever-so-slightly, and his face is spread in a broad grin. It makes Jeremy think _home_ and _safe,_ despite standing in a puddle of street water on a random NYC sidewalk and it makes Jeremy wonder how Michael ever had a crush on him. The café’s almost completely empty but the sheer presence of Michael, eyes crinkled at the corners with laughter and a blush rising along the bridge of his nose, seems to fill the whole room up with comfort and joy. Michael’s hands, broad and expressive, gesture along with something he’s saying, then he scrunches his right hand through his hair and the familiar gesture makes that tight, aching jealousy in his chest release. Only it clamps right back in again, doubling down and making his lungs feel heavy, when he sees the guy making Michael laugh and blush.

 

Michael spots his weird aborted wave motion through the window and waves back, a surprised, delighted look on his face. The man flirting with Michael over the counter turns around and oh holy shit, is Jeremy’s life a fucking bad rom-com now? He’s already lived through a bizarre science-fiction novel, so time to get a heaping of contrived coincidences, because it’s the friendly barbershop quartet guy. Has barbershop quartet guy always been that handsome? Michael certainly seems to think so, from the way he almost instantly turns away from Jeremy and back to the mystery quartet guy. Quartet guy isn’t even looking at Michael again, he’s still grinning at Jeremy through the glass, and shit, his smile is kind of crooked, but he looks happy, and cheerful, and confident. He gives Jeremy a little wave of recognition, and turns back to Michael. It’s like all the warmth that seeing Michael brought just seeps out of him in an instant. He stares at their huddled forms, at Michael’s shaking shoulders, the way his eyes squeeze shut when he’s heard a joke he really actually likes, at the way the guy’s leaning in close around the counter and how the flickering lights make his eyes sparkle.

 

Jeremy drops his hand from its weird half wave, and draws his hoodie closer around himself. He tucks his exposed fingertips into his armpits until he’s one sharp line, wrapped in a borrowed red hoodie, standing in the cold blue streetlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:)  
> (i have a hell of a lot going on in my life rn so i might not update for a few days but i promise you i know where this is going, so hold onto ur butts)


	10. Jeremy brings it all crashing down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy is an inherently selfish character, and hasn't really been forced to grow out of his self-centredness. Michael is happy and then sad, David is no home-wrecker.

He knows, rationally, that he shouldn’t be jealous of Michael’s new friend, but rational thought never stopped anyone.  And so he stands, bitter and cold, under the streetlight for a moment before realising, with sudden clarity, that he’s sulking. _Sulking._ Like a moody teen. He knows it’s stupid, but he’s feeling pretty stupid with emotions overall today. So, he should probably just go in there and talk to the guy chatting Michael up, he should make a good impression. He keeps sulking.

 

Michael looks up from his conversation with David, and realises two things; he’s leant quite far over the counter without noticing, only a hands breadth away from David’s face, and that Jeremy is still outside, looking stunningly gloomy. Really outstandingly morose. He tries to wave to Jeremy again, to beckon him inside the warm, virtually empty shop, but Jeremy isn’t even looking properly at him anymore. David turns against the counter again, following his eye-line to where Jeremy is standing outside, and exhales softly.

“That your twink?”

 

“No.” Michael replies, “That’s my _twunk_.”, and he ignores the way saying ‘my’ in reference to Jeremy makes something click into place inside him.

 

They chuckle together at the reference to one of their first conversations two weeks ago, when David had wandered in right before closing and struck up a conversation, starting with “Can I get a friends and family discount for stopping you from falling in front of a train?”

 

Michael had sized him up, looked around the otherwise empty café, shrugged, and said, “You know what? Sure.”

 

They had chatted together until well after the café was supposed to close, originally starting off on the casual talking topic of ‘how fucking expensive is New York, right?’ and ending with Michael snorting coffee out his nose while David showed him ever increasingly ridiculous vines, culminating in the ‘combination twink and hunk’ video. It had become a running joke, David coming into the café every day, mostly during the low hours, and them trying to give the pedestrians outside increasingly ludicrous labels. David had had to look up the word ‘futch’ online to prove that, for once, he wasn’t making it up.

 

David’s been a welcome distraction from Michael’s usual emotional turmoil, and, if he’s being honest, a real comfort. There’s something in knowing that an attractive guy willingly comes and buys overpriced hipster coffee to flirt with him. It’s a funny kind of flirting, a comfortable kind of flirting, that skirts the line between friendship and _intention._ They maybe look at each other too long, too closely, find jokes that specifically appeal to the other, Michael draws cartoons on David’s coffee cups. It’s a back-pocket kind of flirting, where neither of you are going to do anything right now, or maybe even soon, but you know it’s there. It’s fun.

 

The second time David had wandered into the store, he’s very flatly asked Michael if he was currently dating anyone because, in his words, he “can’t do that shit.”

 

Michael had paused, then answered, “It’s complicated, but no. I’m not.”

 

Apparently satisfied, David’s flirting hadn’t stopped but it hasn’t ever gone anywhere significant. Michael isn’t even sure if he wants it to come to anything. Right now, he’s more distracted by wondering what the fuck is up with Jeremy? Why is he just standing out there? They’re going to need to go soo- oh shit, they need to go soon. He’s just about to apologise to David and close up the shop when Jeremy busts in the doors, and half-shouts, “Michael, we’ve got to go!”

 

Jeremy instantly winces, he had been too pre-occupied with wondering whether or not this mystery guy knew that he and Michael were “married”, and forgot to think about volume. Shit, they’re both staring at him now. Michael looks worried and- and mystery guy looks like he’s going through five different emotions at once. He apparently settles on laughter, because he turns to Michael, and wow, they’re really fucking close aren’t they, they could have been kissing before Jeremy arrived, and says, “Yeah, he’s definitely your twunk.”

 

It makes Michael laugh and Jeremy tries to squash down the mixture of jealousy and embarrassment seething in his chest, and then the guy clasps Michael on the shoulder, and leaves his hand there. Jeremy can feel the smile on his own face becoming fixed and plastic, Michael doesn’t like strangers touching him, why is this guy so touchy-feely, why isn’t Michael pushing him off?

 

Michael’s smile stays warm and friendly as he laughs and offers the guy a cookie from the jar at the till.

 

“Go on, get out of here.”

 

“Pushing me out into the cold? I expected better of you, Michael.”

 

Michael chuckles in response, and pushes the cookie further into the dude’s free hand.

 

“C’mon, get. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  
“You sure will.” The guy winks at Michael and grabs the cookie properly. He waves at Jeremy as he heads to the door.

 

Jeremy’s smile crumples a little, and jeez, the rehearsal today really did a number on him because he doesn’t feel pleased for Michael the way he knows he should, knowing that Michael is making new friends. Instead he feels … sour. And so, without even really meaning to, he blurts it out. It's not calculated, but even as it leaves his lips he knows it was the wrong, wrong, wrong thing to say. What he blurts out right as the mystery man is reaching the door, what he blurts out with his eyes fixed on Michael’s confused face, is “Do you have our wedding rings?”

 

Michael flinches at the accusing tone in his voice, and Jeremy realises belatedly that he sounds angry, and it makes something in Michael break.

 

It’s- it’s the first time he thinks he’s ever seen Michael’s eyes turned hard and steely since everything was sorted out after junior year. He can tell, without turning around, that the guy has stopped frozen in his tracks, door cracked open just enough to leak cold street air into the warm café.

 

Michael’s eyes flick from Jeremy to the guy, turning from steely to worried, and Jeremy can’t see what’s happening on the guy’s face but it makes Michael look sad, and god, god, god, he feels like shit.

 

“He- wait! David-“

 

Jeremy hears the door creak open and shut, as fast as the guy can squeeze himself out. He feels a vitriolic sense of satisfaction, groundless and stupid, at having Michael all to himself again. It doesn’t last long.

 

Michael rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes, and sighs, long and deep and phenomenally fed up.

 

Michael doesn’t talk to him the entire time he closes up the café.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't be mad. it's going to get arguably worse next chapter. also i'm drawing a lil comic version of last chapter so idk keep an eye out i guess.


	11. Rich really truly fucked up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael bottles things up, Jeremy has empathy thrust upon him, Rich's teasing goes way too far.
> 
> This is a very angsty chapter, this is not a healthy way to deal with emotions at all. Chapter contains angry arguments, un-healthy dealing with emotions and a panic attack. Warning you straight up.

They stay silent until they’re both out of the sidewalk again, Jeremy not trusting himself to open his mouth without bullshit spilling out. Michael eventually breaks the silence.

 

“What the fuck, Jeremy?”

 

“I-“

  
“There was a guy flirting with me for the first time in ages who’s good-looking, not ancient and not drunk, and you decided, what? That that couldn’t stand? It’s not even the flirting, which I know even you probably picked up which _has_ to be why you practically yelled about this stupid fake marriage, but he was nice! He was becoming a friend, someone who isn’t obligated to be nice to me because we work together, or because we went through some traumatic bullshit together!”

 

“Mi-“

 

“I don’t- Just, why? I know you had to have done it on purpose, and I know you’re blind to everyone most of the time, but you’re not normally **mean**.”

 

Michael’s got his hands fisted in his hair again, not in the flirty way he was when he was talking to ‘David’ before, but in the near tearing-out anger of someone lost and confused.

 

“I- I don’t know.”

 

It’s mumbled in the direction of their feet.

 

“You don’t know?!”

 

It echoes around the street, it makes Jeremy flinch back and look up, and both of them are near tears.

Michael sighs, and his shoulders slump down, rubbing at his eyes angrily.

 

“Of course you don’t know. Of course you don’t.”

 

He scrubs his hand over his face, and starts trudging towards the station. Jeremy stays rooted to the spot.

 

“Come on we’ve got to get to Rich and Jake’s place.”

 

“I- how can you just do this?”

 

“Do what, Jeremy?”

 

“Be so nice, I’m so awful, how can yo-”

 

Michael stops walking, facing away from Jeremy. He can see the way Michael’s shoulders tense and his fists clench, like he’s preparing for a physical fight.

 

“No.”

 

“N- No?”

 

“No. We’re not doing this right now. We’re not the whole spiel where you feel bad and I tell you everything’s alright and we gloss over everything, shoving all our problems into the cracks where I can ignore your selfishness and you can ignore my fucking co-dependency. I- I know you have reasons for thinking the way you do, and I have reasons for thinking the way I do, and neither of us are great with self-esteem or keeping everything in line. But I’m not forgiving you right now. I probably won’t forgive you for a while. I’m just pissed off and tired with everything right now, and we need to have a clear talk about fucking boundaries and emotions tomorrow. But that’s tomorrow. Right now? Right now we’re going to bottle all this emotional baggage right the fuck up, go to Rich and Jake’s place, be happy for them for whatever’s going on right now, because I don’t want to turn up at their door looking like I’ve cried again.”

 

The “again” catches in Jeremy’s brain but even he knows now is not the time. So he stuffs his hands deep into the hoodie pockets and walks up to Michael.

 

He says, “A- Alright.”

 

He wants to hug Michael.

 

He doesn’t.

 

They get on their train in complete silence.

 

Jeremy’s fingers itch with the need to touch Michael, and his tongue feels lumpy and too big in his mouth, words and feelings and excuses trapped behind his teeth. He doesn’t realise that he’s started picking at his scars again until Michael’s hand clamps across his wrist, broad and warm, blocking his twitching fingers from his now bleeding scars.

 

The soft “No” he lets out is the only thing Michael says the entire trip until Jeremy offers an olive branch.

 

“We could just not go?”

 

“No.” Michael grinds out, staring at his scuffed up work shoes. “I think I know what they want to tell you about, and we would be really shitty people to duck out on them.”

 

“O- Oh. Alright.”

 

Michael turns at looks at him properly for the first time since they got on e train. He's smiling, a soft smile, and Jeremy is almost comforted until he realises that the warmth doesn't reach Michael's eyes. He still looks so sad and Jeremy realises with a start that Michael's probably pasted on fake smiles before, for years and years, and he's never noticed. 

 

It’s not until they knock on the door of Rich and Jake’s apartment, in a nicer area of town than their own, that Michael realises that yeah, they probably should have just bailed. Rich and Jake won’t want to announce their marriage to an abnormally mad Michael and close to tears Jeremy. He figures it’s too late to bail now that they’ve knocked, until the door swings open and Michael really truly wishes they had just gone home.

 

The entire gang is behind the door.

 

“Congratulations!” , they scream.

 

They’ve printed a banner of Rich’s snapchat from when Michael and Jeremy had first driven to New York all those years ago, “JUST MARRIED” scrawled on the back of Michael’s PT Cruiser in white paint, Jeremy’s beaming face in the passenger seat is just visible behind all the shit piled into the back seat.

 

Around the room, they’ve printed out postcard sized versions of the photos from their shoot yesterday, Michael looking adoringly at Jeremy in front of a red backdrop, and Jeremy dipping him backwards, and Michael leaning in to kiss him. They swim before his eyes, and this feels exactly like a nightmare.

 

Michael feels like he’s going to puke.

 

Michael and Jeremy stand in the doorway of a waking nightmare, of the exact wrong situation for them right now.

 

They can see, before them, the beaming grins falling off their friends’ faces at their silence, their stunned, miserable panicked looks. Michael locks eyes with Rich, still being held up in the air by Jake’s arm around his waist. He can feel his cheeks start to heat up, and it all swims before him, blurred by panic and tears.

 

He hears, beside him, Jeremy make a choking noise, can feel the air and warmth beside him shift as Jeremy turns on his heel and walks as fast as he can away from them, from him, from this fucking farce.

 

Jenna runs to the now empty space in the doorway.

 

“W- wait! What? Jeremy!”

 

She shoots Michael an accusatory look before she runs after Jeremy and all he can do in response is mutter “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t”, over and over again. He feels strong hands wrap around his biceps, probably Jake, and he can feel the tears on his face and shit, shit, shit, shit, this is what he gets by bottling things up; an emotional Molotov cocktail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter! aren't you happy???????? aren't you?????????????  
> (come scream at me for inflicting pain on our boys at media-mumbles on the blue hellsite)
> 
> [edit because i forgot to add a heartwrenching thing to this chapter that I meant to]  
> [important to not that michael actually never told jeremy abt the michael in the bathroom thing]


	12. They're trying, okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna is very perceptive, Jeremy is still a fucking walnut, and Michael is ........ getting there.

Jeremy’s halfway out the building by the time Jenna catches up to him, Christine hot on her heels. He stops as soon as they reach him, all the energy draining out of him in one long breath and he crumples against a wall. Christine immediately falls to her knees to grab onto his arm, while Jenny sends off a text to Rich and Brooke saying that they’ve got Jeremy.

 

“I’ve fucked it all up.”, he says to his knees, crouching against the wall in a fetal position.

 

“What? How?”

 

“Take deep breaths Jeremy, it’ll be okay.”

 

He ignores Jenna’s questions and tries to do as Christine says. Six beats in, eight beats out. He’s feeling a bit more grounded until he says, “Everything will be fine.”, and he remembers Michael’s words from earlier.

 

“Shit, no, it won’t, he’s angry with me.”

 

“It’ll be okay, he’ll forgive you, he loves you.”

 

“That’s the problem!”

 

He realises Christine’s fallen back on her heels, the loudness and desperation of his outburst pushing her back.

 

“Fuck, I’m doing it again.”

 

Jenna crouches down in front of him, and calls his attention with strong hands on his shoulders.

 

“Okay, Jeremy. Do you want to talk about it, do you want to leave, stay here, or go back in?”

 

He breathes deep while assessing his options, flexing his hands and feeling the clotted blood over his scars start to crack again.

 

“I- I think I want to talk about it.”

Jenna and Christine share a look, and then move to sit next to him on the dirty floor, in the middle of the corridor.

 

“Alright, start at the beginning.”

“T- That’s the thing really. I’m not sure where the beginning is.”

 

“Why do you think Michael is angry with you?”

“I was a- a dick, and drove away a guy that he’d been flirting with.”

Christine lets out a gasped, “Flirting?”

 

“Yeah, a good looking guy that apparently he’s been talking to recently without telling me?”

“But you’re together! He shouldn’t be flirting with someone else.”

“Wh- what?”

“Unless that’s something you’ve discussed of course, but then I don’t know why it would be upsetting yo-“

“What? No. No, Christine. No, Michael and I aren’t together.”

“But. The pictures?”

 

“NO, no, no. He- We’ve been faking it.”

“Why?”, Jenna interjects.

“I- I asked him to?”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

“Y- yeah. Yeah. It’s just, we fought right before we came here about me being shitty about him flirting with the

guy, and there was just-“

“Hang on, why were you angry at him for flirting if you aren’t together?”

“I- I don’t really know? At rehearsal we were talking about jealousy and pretending that Michael picked someone else over me made me feel like shit and I guess I just took it out on him.”

 

Jeremy doesn’t notice the significant looks being shared over his head as he barrels on.

 

“I don’t think he’s been angry at me before? Not about anything that felt like it had consequence. But the way he acted today, the things he said, I- I think he’s been angry at me for a long time and I never realised.”

“Honey, no, he’s not angry with you. Maybe right now, but certainly not all the time.”, Christine says.

 

“He- he was talking about me being really selfish, and how he always just glosses over things and pretends they aren’t there? I’m really worried he’s been hiding stuff from me, or being nice when I didn’t deserve it just because I’m weak.”

 

He digs his thumbs into his temples and buries his head back in his arms again. He feels Christine’s hand on his shoulder, but it’s Jenna that speaks this time.

 

“You’re not weak, Jeremy. Sensitive, sure-“

“Jenna! Not the time!”

 

“I’m being honest! Jeremy, being sensitive isn’t something wrong with you. You have problems, but so does Michael. I don’t think he’s hiding things from you to hurt you, he’s trying to protect you and himself.”

“But- but you do think he’s hiding things?”

 

“Who isn’t hiding things, Jeremy? Everyone and their mom has secrets, it’s just that you and Michael probably need to sit down and have a talk about yours.”

“I- Okay.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“Okay. I- I don’t know what to do about the selfish thing.”

“Stop being selfish.”

Jeremy lifts his head out his arms to look at Jenna, who has a small smile playing on her lips, despite her worried eyes.

“I’m being serious Jeremy. You are oblivious, and you’re self-centred. You don’t mean either of those maliciously, but they go hand in hand and you have a blind-spot when it comes to Michael, and he doesn’t call you out on it because your blindness is what helps him keep himself together sometimes.”

Now Christine is also staring at Jenna, both of them slack-jawed and stunned.

“What? I’m perceptive, okay. Michael is one of the few people that you move obstacles for, but getting between you and a goal is difficult and you think about yourself first. Because he has his own secrets, which I may or may not be privy to, your actions can hurt him more than most.”

Jeremy stares at the two of them, subconsciously uncurling from his position against the wall.

 

“He cares so much about you, and you care so much about him.” Christine points out.

 

“So your advice is stop being selfish and talk to him?”

“Yes, pretty much.”

  
“What did you expect Jeremy, we’re also young adults with little relationship experience. We can’t work miracles for you while you mope in a dirty corridor.”

 

Jenna’s words, as harsh as they are make him laugh a little.

 

“Come on,” Christine says, “Let’s wash your face off.”

 

“And Jeremy?” Jenna adds.

 

“Yeah?”

“Maybe think a bit more about your emotions today.”

 

  
~

 

 

Michael becomes aware of his surroundings slowly, picking out bits and pieces of sound and texture first, of Rich saying “holy shit” like a mantra, and the soft fabric of the couch under him. This isn’t quite a panic attack, it’s overwhelming sadness and writhing myopic anger at himself and at Jeremy and at Rich and Jake, writhing in his chest. He doesn’t want to do this right now, he doesn’t want to do this ever.

 

“Why would this seem like a good idea?”

 

“Woah, you’re back with us, dude?” Rich asks, tentatively laying his hand over Michael’s.

 

“Why would you think this is a good idea?” Michael repeats, louder this time.

 

Rich, obviously taken aback by the question glances at Jake.

 

“Um, we didn’t think it wouldn’t be?”

“What the _fuck_ does that mean, Rich?”

 

“We- we thought it would be nice to get everyone together to celebrate.”  
  
“I had thought this was going to be about you guys getting married? Why all the pictures of me and Jeremy?”

 

Michael is steadfastly staring at his hands, to avoid looking at said pictures.

“Oh- uh, yeah. We found out that the place we got married in Vegas wasn’t actually legally binding unless we did a bunch of other stuff that we forgot to do so we’ll be getting married again. We haven’t told anyone about the first time, because that’s kind of embarrassing.”

“The pictures?” Michael grits out.

 

Jake takes over speaking, “We had thought you had gotten married?”

Michael looks up from his hands, still taking deep measured breaths because dear god, not now, and says, as clearly and non-agressively as he can.

 

“You knew it was fake.”

 

“Yeah, _was_.”

“W- What.”

“Like, it _was_ fake but isn’t anymore?” Rich adds.

 

“Why? Why would you think that? He’s fucking straight and has never noticed. Well, he never knew anything until _you_ told him about the kiss.”

 

“Well, the photos do kind of make it look a hell of a lot like it’s not fake anymore. Christine didn’t actually tell us where she got them, but they look professional. And he’s known about the kiss for ages.”  
  
“He’s known about the kiss for ages, and never brought it up. He found out about my crush and brought it up like it was nothing. And the photos are fake, they’re all fake, it’s all fucking fake.” Michael moves to stand up, even though he can barely move because he's so bone-tired of everything.

 

“Hey, hey, hey. Rich, can you grab us some tissues? Michael, can I touch you?”

 

Rich scampers off to find tissues, and comes back with a handful of toilet paper to see his husband curled up around Michael on the couch.

 

“Okay, Michael, do you want to talk about it, or just sit here?”

 

Michael wipes the snot off his face, and is suddenly grateful that he’s not wearing the new hoodie that Jeremy got him because he’s sure the sleeves would be streaked with tears and snot by now.

 

“I want to talk, j- just give me a minute.”

 

They sit in silence for a few moments, until Michael says, “Can you guys talk about something for a bit to distract me?”

 

“Sure”, Rich replies.

 

“Of course”, says Jake.

 

They natter on about how embarrassing it is to try and get a joint bank account as a married couple when you realise your marriage license isn’t really legitimate and also has a picture of an Egyptian pharaoh and Elvis holding hands printed on the bottom. Their story includes a very fed up bank teller, and a frustrating conversation with an officiant who would drop their shitty fake-Elvis voice the entire phone call. It makes Michael laugh. When their story ends, Michael breathes deep and says, “Okay. I can talk about it now.”

"Do you want the long or the short version?"

"Whichever you prefer, Michael."

"Okay, short version, I love him, and he doesn't ever seem to notice, and he takes me for granted."  
  


"I don't take you for granted." All three men squished onto the couch turn to see Jeremy, red-rimmed eyes, dark circles, acne scars and all, standing in the doorway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy i'm really pumping out the chapters tonight. this three chapter emotional ordeal brought to you by jetlag. i'm off to sleep now, finish up this bit tomorrrowwwwww maybe  
> anyways thanks for sticking with me, gang. you are all wonderful, i love u all, feel free to scream at me in the comments or on tumblr.


	13. just a shitton of talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy is a walnut but he's trying, Michael realises that he should follow his own advice.

“I- I don’t take you for granted.” Jeremy repeats, and his eyes are red and puffy.

 

“I don’t take any of you for granted.” Jeremy says as he walks into the room, Jenna and Christine hanging back in the doorway.

 

Michael really fucking doesn’t want to talk about this right now, doesn’t want to hear Jeremy make excuses, and he’s about to say as much when Jeremy is suddenly standing before him, hand hovering over his knee.

 

“And I love you a lot, and I like you a lot. I- I want to be clear on that. I don’t feel obligated to be friends with you, none of us do. And you said I don’t ever seem to notice? I don’t know specifically what you were referring to which, haha, I guess is kind of the problem but I’m trying, fuck, I’m trying. I- maybe I do take you for granted, a bit, but I don’t mean to. That’s not much of an excuse, is it? I- I take you for granted, I think, in the way I take the air for granted? Shit, no, that sounds worse. I just, assume you’ll always be there for me, in the way I want to always be there for you. I’m self-centred, selfish, oblivious and apparently pissy about you not telling me about your new friend, but I do try.”  


Michael doesn’t think Jeremy’s noticed, but as he’s speaking his hands stop shaking and his stutter dies out, he’s speaking clearly and standing straighter. He looks like he does when he used to talk about Christine, when he espouses the virtues of Aaron Tveit, when they banter over which Apocalypse of the Damned game is best, when he’s passionate about something.

 

It makes some of the writhing in Michael’s chest crumble apart but he’s still bitter and annoyed, at himself for doing whatever Jeremy wants and for Jeremy for never noticing what that does to him.

 

“You might try” Michael pushes out, “but you never change anything.”

 

“Change what? I don’t know what you want me to change! Jenna and Christine just told me to talk to you about everything, and that’s something you say all the time anyway, and I do my fucking best. I lay all my problems and shit out there for you to see and pick through, and you help. You help so, so much more than I think you realise, and I love you for helping me, but I don’t love you just for helping me. I love you for supporting me in all my stupid shit, for being funny, for being loud, you make me feel better even when I’m not sad. I- I don’t know where I was going with that.”

 

He falters, but grabs Michael’s knee as he keeps talking.

 

“Oh, yeah. You are, by far, one of the best people in my life, no offence everyone.”

 

“None taken.” Rich replies, and Michael realises belatedly that Rich and Jake have gotten up off the couch to join Jenna and Christine in the doorway, giving them some room. He has no clue where Brooke and Chloe are.

 

Jeremy plows on anyway, he doesn’t notice everyone leaving, too focused on pushing all his words out before he clams back up, and too focused on the way Michael still isn’t looking at him properly.

 

“Oh, yeah. You tell me about your problems, your shitty day, how you wish your co-workers were cleaner, how you wish the cute guy at the bar had flirted back when he was sober, but it’s never deeper than that. I had always, I guess, just assumed everything was always fine. ‘You know, Michael, the really chill guy.’ You always seemed happy, I never thought something might be wrong. You soak up all my misery and complaining and the fucking self-hatred from the stupid fucking computer, and you give up everything for me, and I’m so fucking worried that you’ve been sad or angry this whole time and I never knew.”

 

Michael doesn’t know what to do with that tirade, Jeremy is still holding onto his knee and looking close to passing out with the amount of energy that emotional introspection has taken out of him. So Michael blurts out the first response he can think of.

 

“I’m not sad all the time.”

 

It lets a little of the tension out of Jeremy’s shoulders, and his hand squeezes Michael’s knee and shuffles in a little closer. For once Jeremy looks taller than him, crowding him into the couch, and it feels like he’s holding him down with one sweaty palm, making him have this conversation.

 

“Maybe not all the time, but more than I knew? Something has to be eating at you because I know what I did earlier was shitty, and I will absolutely do everything I can to fix it, but when you were angry before? You said we could just bottle it all up and pasted on this fake smile like I wouldn’t notice.”

 

The reminder of what Jeremy did, the straw that broke the camel’s back, makes the angry, bitter thing in Michael’s chest swell to bursting.

 

‘You wouldn’t notice! You don’t! You never do! That’s the fucking problem! You don’t see things that are right under your nose, and you should. We kept doing this fake marriage because you asked me to, even though you could see it felt wrong, and I was uncomfortable!”

 

“I asked if you wanted to stop!” Jeremy yells and, as his words echo around the empty apartment, all Michael can say in response is “Oh.”

“I would give up everything for you!” Jeremy says, still too loud, and his hand on Michael’s knee is starting to squeeze too tight, knuckles turning white, fingernails digging into Michael’s jeans. Michael lays his hand over Jeremy’s to tell him to loosen it up, and doesn’t expect Jeremy to flip his hand and intertwine their fingers together.

 

“I would up everything for you.” Jeremy repeats, quieter this time. “I owe you my life, but even without junior year, I would give everything up for you anyway. I would give up the musical if you’d ever said you were uncomfortable. I’d buy a second bed or sleep on the couch if it’d make you sleep better, even though being near you helps me sleep. I’d move out, I’d stay forever, I’d change everything in my power if it helped you, but I never knew you needed help! Or even wanted it.”

 

Jeremy pauses to scrub his free hand over his eyes, where tears are forming again and shit, not now.

 

“I never knew you wanted anything to be different. You never said anything.”

 

His last sentence is almost a whisper.

 

Michael stares at him, wide eyed and wordless.

 

Jeremy slumps a little, his legs fold underneath him and Michael is frantic, for a second, that Jeremy has fainted, but he’s just crouching in front of Michael now. Their eyes are pretty much level, and he never separates their hands.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, you never said anything and I don’t know how long things have been hurting you and that makes me feel like shit. This isn’t a self-derisive hatred tirade, it’s just- I love you, I want you to be happy, and I don’t want to hurt you and I’m mad that I hurt you today, let alone that apparently I’m been hurting you for a while.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I don’t want you to move out, for the record. I want us to stay in the same bed, because you help, even when you don’t know it.”

 

“But I don’t know when I help and I hurt. We’ve been friends for, what? 15 years? And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be angry before and I think a lot of that is on me being blind, but you know I don’t notice things, that I have issues with social clues.”

 

“I was angry with you for the café thing.”

 

“I know, and that was stupid and rude, but you were mad about something else, something bigger, and I just _don’t know what.”_

“It- seems really dumb now.”

 

Jeremy curls up next to him on the couch, close enough for warmth but not enough to be crowding him in. Neither of them release the others’ hand.

 

“I- I’m mad at you, sure, because what you did was rude and I’m going to make you explain everything to David later-“

 

“Of course. Oh, sorry for interrupting.”

 

“I don’t know. I was mad at you for never noticing stuff that’s right in front of you but yeah, I should have talked to you about that earlier. I don’t know, I think I’m annoyed that you think you can dictate my time.”

 

“But I don’t think I can, Michael! I had assumed that if something was inconvenient for you or uncomfortable that you’ll tell me. It’s not like I stop you from hanging out with our other friends.”

 

“Yeah, _our_ other friends. And yeah, you kind of do, Rich and Jake have been in New York for a month and I’ve only seen them the once before tonight, when they turned up at the bar. You always make excuses to keep me doing something else, and I don’t get it? Do you not want me to see people romantically? Is that what was up with David today?”

 

“I- I thought you just didn’t have other friends! You never told me about this David guy. And of course I don- don’t have an- any p-problems with you d-dating.”

 

“I like having something to myself! I didn’t tell you about David because I didn’t think it would be important, I’m allowed to have friends that you don’t know the life stories of.”

 

“I’m sorry!”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I just- I just realised I never apologised for the David thing, or even for all of what I just talked about so, y’know, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise I was hogging you all to myself, I- I just prefer spending time with you? If I had to pick between dinner with Rich and Jake, and a night in with you, I’d pick you pretty much every time.”

 

“But why did you bring up the wedding rings when David was right there? You must have known that would weird him out, it’d weird out anyone to have the guy they’re flirting with be angrily yelled at about wedding rings.”

 

Jeremy tries to ignore the way his stomach turns over at ‘flirting’.

 

“I don’t know, okay? I- I just, I- Oh.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“OH.”

  
“What is it, Jere-“

 

“I was jealous! I was jealous. I- I didn’t even realise.”

 

Michael pretends that the idea that Jeremy was jealous of David doesn’t make something inside him melt a little.

 

“Dude, how do you not know when you’re jealous.”

 

“Look, Michael, I think we’ve established that I’ve got a blind-spot when it comes to you.”

 

They lock eyes, and yep Jeremy is crying, and whoops, there goes Michael, and they’re both crying and laughing. Jeremy bundles him up in a hug, tentatively at first, and when Michael doesn’t move he hugs him tighter and longer. They sit there together knees bumping, snot and tears staining the shoulders of Michael’s red hoodie and his work shirt and they topple over, and Michael- Michael knows that this is going to have changed them. It’ll have changed them the same way the aftermath of the play did, and Jeremy’s going to have questions he doesn’t want to answer, but it’s hard to dwell on that when Jeremy’s face is mashed into his shoulder, shoulders shaking with laughter and lips breathing a litany of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

 

 

They lie there for a while, until the laughter dies down, until Michael starts wondering where the fuck the others got to, until Jeremy breaks the silence by saying, “At least those photos from the shoot turned out well.”

 

Michael wriggles until he can see the pictures dotted around the room, messed up by the whole debacle earlier. Jeremy’s head rests on his chest, above the surgery scar on his left pec, and he wonders idly if Jeremy can hear his heartbeat speed up as he looks at the photos of the two of them. He tenses up at the thought of the big secret he’s still keeping from Jeremy, at the way Michael is so clearly in love with Jeremy in those photos. It feels voyeuristic, like he’s looking into the life of his luckier parallel self, at engagement photos he won’t have, at the way Jeremy almost looks in love right back. It makes him queasy.

 

Jeremy feels Michael tense underneath him, and asks quickly, ‘Do you want me to take them down? We can get the zine not to print the photos or the interview or both, if they make you uncomfortable.”

 

“No.” Michael says, after a minute properly looking at the photos. “They are really nice.”

 

They lay there for a while longer, and Jeremy’s wheezing from the laughter and crying eases out into normal breathing, and now Michael is really very curious about where the fuck everyone else went.

 

He feels, right before he speaks, Jeremy tense up on top of him.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you?”

 

Michael stares at the wall, and the pictures of them cuddling and kissing stuck to it, and the one lone picture of Jeremy by himself, beaming at something outside the frame. He thinks the thing Jeremy was smiling at was probably him.

 

“I didn’t want you to annoy you.”

  
“Why? Dude, I don’t think that’s your real reason. I mean, if it is, it is. But you can’t annoy me, and certainly not by saying ‘hey I want to see Rich and Jake tonight’ or ‘I don’t want to do this fake marriage that you pulled me into without warning me’. Are you okay with keeping the marriage up, as well? We can still stop it if you want, we can come clean or make something up or whatever. Especially if you want to date David. And I mean, you annoy me when you fart in our bed then flap the covers so it smells awful, and you annoy me sometimes when you can’t pick restaurants or you make fun of the phallic vegetables really loudly in the supermarket but, like, that’s not really a bother.”

 

The familiarity of Jeremy rambling breaks down the last of the anger from earlier and Michael feels tired, but more at comfortable than he has years.

 

“The marriage is fine. It’s really not like we do much anyway, and I don’t think it was ever going to go anywhere with David. And, yeah, that’s maybe not the whole reason. I- I don’t want to disappoint you? That’s wrong, it’s more that I don’t want you to see everything wrong with me.”

 

“You have a 24/7 viewing of my flaws, a constant show of me barely keeping my shit together. Why would it matter that you have issues too?”

 

“I didn’t want you to leave again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	14. even more talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they get some sense, and jeremy finally gets a fucking clue

“I didn’t want you to leave again.” Michael says, staring at the pictures of a preferred life stuck up on the wall, at Jeremy beaming at him outside of frame.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.” Michael is so deeply embarrassed by his confession, but still so tired from the emotions of the day, that all he do is lie there and wait and hope that the couch swallows him whole so that he doesn’t have to hear Jeremy’s meaningless platitudes. He’s sure that Jeremy’s going to say, ‘I would never leave you.’ And he’s sure Jeremy will think he means it but he left before and they’ve been pretty stable, apart from today, but who’s to say that Jeremy won’t find greener grass, find someone he likes better, upgrade to a better model of best friend. So Michael lies there, and tries to focus on breathing deeply and not thinking about the fact that Jeremy isn’t saying anything in response.

 

“I- I didn’t know that still worried you.”

 

“Of course it still worried me, Jeremy!”

 

Shit, it’s hard to talk about things when Jeremy is right there on top of him, but he knows he has to, and the weight of Jeremy’s skinny body on top of his is comforting, grounding, the same way it always has been. So, he forces it out, he forces it all out, the big things that he’s kept behind his tongue for years.

 

“Of course it still bothers me. I, shit, I had a panic attack after you left, while I was in the bathroom. It wasn’t my first panic attack, but it was my first one without you, my first one because of you. I was still in there when Rich started the fire, I was the one that got him out, and I didn’t even know if you were alive for hours afterwards. I didn’t know if the reason you weren’t responding to my calls was because you were ignoring me or because you were dead. And afterwards, after all of it, you still didn’t really feel like you were there with me. You were so focused on your new friends, on Christine, that you didn’t notice the burns on my hands from when I tried to open the bathroom door during the fire. You didn’t notice that I didn’t smoke up with you for almost a year because I couldn’t deal with inhaling smoke again. You didn’t notice when I dated Rich for half a year. And I’m- I’m not really blaming you for not noticing, because I never tried to talk to you about any of it, but to me, the fact that you never asked felt like you telling me you just didn’t care.”

 

Michael isn’t sure what he expected as a response but it sure wasn’t Jeremy silently, and purposefully, sitting up. Jeremy shifts until his thinner hips are straddling Michael’s wider ones, and he’s suddenly viscerally happy for the first time that he doesn’t have a “normal” dick because shit, now would be an unfortunate time for that. What he especially didn’t expect was Jeremy seemingly ignoring all of Michael’s confessions to demand, “Where’s your jacket?”

 

Nonplussed, and slightly weirded out, Michael points at his jacket where someone dumped it next to the couch. Without leaving his position, Jeremy leans to fish inside the jacket.

 

“Uh- did you hear any of what I just said?”

 

“Yeah, of course, I just- I know you always put important stuff in the inside left pocket of your jackets and- aha!”

 

Jeremy sits up on his hips again, one fist clenched and the other resting on Michael’s chest for balance, and Michael really hoped Rich isn’t anywhere nearby with a camera.

 

“Give me your hand.”

 

Michael doesn’t move.

 

“Dude, c’mon, give me your left hand.”

 

“Hand?”

 

“Yes, your hand. Dude, what I’m about to do is super cheesy and if you don’t give me your hand right now, I will pussy out of it.”

 

Michael offers up his hand, and watches as Jeremy grabs it, their skin colours contrasting against each other and against the fabric of Michael’s red hoodie which Jeremy is still wearing.

 

“Okay.” Jeremy says. “I will make you a promise, here and now. And this is stupidly cheesy so please don’t tell the others. No, I mean, you can tell the others, this isn’t a secret, just don’t tease me about it, not that I think you’d tease me about it anyway-“

 

Michael squeezes Jeremy’s hand in his, lost and kind of worried for whatever is going on in Jeremy’s brain right now. Jeremy takes a ragged breath, sits up a bit straighter, and starts again.

 

“Michael Mell, I am making you a promise right now that I am going to live by until I die. And I know you can’t just say that you’ll keep a promise forever, but this is a universal truth now, and the universal truth is that I love you. Wow, okay, this is even cheesier when I say it out loud, but whatever. I love you and I will not leave you again, I’m not going to discard you when something better comes along because you are the something better. You are the something best. Shit, that doesn’t make sense. I mean, I will, from now on, do my best to understand you and what you’re feeling, as long as you agree to actually tell me what you want and mean. I care about you, and when I don’t ask, it means that I haven’t noticed anything is wrong but I will still always care about you and your well-being. You are my best friend, and my favourite person, and I will try to stop hogging all your time, but I do it because I would rather spend an hour in silence with you than ten hours talking with friends. I worry about you leaving me too, because I love you, but I will try to be less weirdly jealous of your friends. Alright?”

 

And Jeremy is looking down at him with gleaming eyes, expectant, and Michael doesn’t really know what to say so he says, “Alright.”

 

Jeremy beams, and opens up his clenched fist to show their wedding rings, and carefully slides one onto Michael’s left ring finger, and one onto his own.

 

“Uh.”

 

Jeremy’s smile falters a little.

 

“Was th- that too weird?”

 

Shit, Michael thinks he might start crying, that was so oddly sweet.

 

“No, dude, that was perfect. You’re going to give a great proposal speech to some girl in the future.”

 

Jeremy laughs in response.

 

“That was beautiful though, despite the swearing, but these are actually Rich and Jake’s rings, we- we can’t keep wearing them.”

 

That just makes Jeremy laugh harder and Michael is struck by how perfect the moment is, Jeremy grinning down at him, silver shining on his finger, wearing a borrowed red hoodie; a beautiful picture, just like the ones stuck to the wall, of a slightly warped version of his life, a beautiful husband he doesn’t quite have. It’s a beautiful moment anyway, despite the flaws, and he helplessly smiles back.

 

In a weird way, it’s how Michael’s eyes crinkle when he smiles that suddenly, forcefully, makes Jeremy see the bigger picture, makes the puzzle pieces he’s overlooked for years click into place. The bigger picture of him sitting on Michael’s hips on a friend’s couch wearing borrowed wedding rings and laughing at themselves, the bigger picture of how, maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t just love Michael. He might  _love_ Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) :) :) thank u all so much for all your wonderful comments, i love you all  
> this thing has gotten way, way longer than I had ever intended so uh, thanks for sticking with it folks. we've got a couple more months of plot left so only, probably, about 3 chapters.
> 
> unrelated but please tell me what your squip would be, mine is the primitive spongebob meme, their name is bob but it's pronounced boob, and they keeps me aware of deadlines and on my toes. they never move out of that one pose, they just teleport. my friend's squip is 'freggy', the child of shaggy and freddy from scooby doo because she needs a chill charismatic stoner to tell her to calm down.
> 
>  
> 
> UPDATE  
> new chapter comin in a few days, cant charge my laptop rn so *shrug emoji*


	15. decisions made in an absence of knowledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael makes a decision, Jeremy has a dream, the author uses dreams as a plot contrivance.

Jeremy’s knees squeeze at Michael’s waist while they laugh and Michael suddenly searches for something to say or do. He turns to fish for his phone in his jacket pocket, and tries to ignore how his hip drags up Jeremy’s thigh, and sends off a message to Rich. While Michael’s not looking at him, Jeremy tenses and has a minor (major) freak-out because, oh my god, holy shit, he thinks he _likes_ Michael.

 

[8:02 pm] heavenormell: where are you guys?

 

When Michael looks back up, Jeremy has a strong blush spreading to the tips of his ears and he worries for a second their close contact has weirded Jeremy out. He’s obviously already embarrassed enough after his speech earlier, so Michael doesn’t tease him about it.

 

When Michael’s phone alerts him to a reply, Jeremy tries to crane his neck to read the response upside down.

 

[8:03 pm] ragstoriches: wnt t dnnr. Gt brd. Dnt bne on teh sfa.

 

“What?” Michael says out-loud.

Jeremy cranes his neck further, and responds “What, what?”

 

[8:03 pm] ragstoriches: This is Jake, I took Rich’s phone to type for him.

[8:04 pm] ragstoriches: He has sauce all over his hands, I don’t know how, we’re eating pasta.

[8:04 pm] ragstoriches: Anyway, we got bored of waiting outside the door and definitely not eavesdropping on your argument. I assume if you’re messaging me, you guys resolved it. We’ve gone to dinner nearby, it’s pretty fancy so if you want to come you might need to grab one of my jackets for Jeremy if he’s still wearing your old hoodie. Why is that, by the way?

 

Michael opens his mouth to read the messages to Jeremy, when his phone beeps again.

 

[8:05 pm] ragstoriches: Rich also really wants me to tell you not to bone on our couch. I second that, please don’t do that. If needs be, we have a bed, but I’d still rather you didn’t fuck in our apartment.

[8:05 pm] ragstoriches: Rich wants to add “at least not without us there” to that last sentence.

[8:05 pm] ragstoriches: Also, if you guys actually didn’t resolve it, just send a message and we’ll be there to comfort and support ASAP.

 

Michael is torn between wanting to laugh and cry and throw his head in his hands. Instead, he suffices with repeating the first set of messages out to Jeremy. At the mention of going out to dinner, he feels Jeremy tense on top of him again, and oh wow do they need to move out of this weird straddle proposal position Jeremy flipped them into.

 

“We should go join them then, I guess.” Michael suggests, although he desperately, deeply, doesn’t want to deal with their friends’ well-meaning but probing questions right now.

 

“Michael, what do you want to do?” Jeremy asks, and he’s close and warm and free of judgement.

 

“I- uh, I think I’d rather go home.” Michael hazards.

 

“Alright!” Jeremy beams, “Do you want pizza from the place near the station? Because you mentioned last week you wanted pizza when we were talking about TMNT, so I thought maybe some pizza?”

 

Michael smiles softly as he watches Jeremy heave himself off the sofa, and it feels like a weight of his chest. Okay, well, Jeremy was a literal weight on his chest two minutes ago, but really, he feels better for the conversations of the evening. Not completely good, shiningly fine, but better.

 

They spend the rest of the night watching The Last Action Hero and eating their greasy pizzas and it is, to Michael, the perfect evening. He came so very close to telling Jeremy everything; about his years long crush, about the way that the marriage is a slow cruel torture that he's inflicting on himself, about the way that his love for Jeremy is slow and soft sometimes, and hot and red other times. He came so close to confessing everything, but he didn't. And he thinks, for the first time in years, that he's better for it. He's better with the constant low pressure in his chest, the slow sadness of unrequited love, than the stabbing pain of being turned down, the falling and crashing and burning of a life-long friendship. And so, without telling Jeremy because why would he, Michael makes a promise to himself. It's a silent moment at the end of a crowded, noisy, heinous day, when Michael tells himself that he's going to move on. He's going to work more on, well, not on ending his crush per se, but on putting it to the side, putting it all aside. 

 

He stares at the laptop perched on Jeremy's knees without really seeing it, colours morphing in front of him, and thinks about how Jeremy said he couldn't bottle things up anymore, but he's not Jeremy, and he needs to move on. He thinks that, just maybe, things could go somewhere with David. He looks at the side of Jeremy's sleeping face, at the colours and movement playing across his scarred cheeks, and realises that this could be healthier. That he shouldn't keep sleeping in the same bed as his unwitting crush, even though he's not creepy about it, he shouldn't indulge the fake marriage, because that is actually kind of weird, he shouldn't tell Jeremy he loves him every day when the love he feels is all kinds of different than how Jeremy feels for him. None of these will stop soon, but he- he should at least try to date again. He should try and separate himself from this dream-like version of his life, even a little bit. Jeremy is straight, Michael definitely isn't, and even though he doesn't mean to be creepy or weird about it, indulging his crush isn't really healthy.

 

It's 1am, Jeremy is drooling lightly on his shoulder, Michael chooses to move on, the movie goes on unwatched in the background.

 

_

 

It's bright and clear, sunshine shining red and warm through his eyelids when he blinks slowly. Jeremy is holding Michael's hand in his. Michael's ring is a cold line inside their intertwined fingers. They're talking to Rich and Jake, and he can see the girls sitting at a far off table, eating tiny beautiful cakes. Brooke kisses frosting off the corner of Chloe's mouth. Jenna mimes barfing, and they all giggle although Chloe keeps her arm around Brooke, fingers tangling in the strap of her sundress. It's bright, and sunny, and warm, and Michael is kissing him.

 

It's familiar, unsettlingly so. It feels like deja-vu, a do-over, a perfect re-run of a failed save. He's sitting on Michael's hips and the borrowed red hoodie hangs loose around him. It's just them and Michael says, 'I didn't want you to leave again' and Jeremy says 'never again, never again, never again', lips pressed to Michael's shoulder, his cheek, his lips.

 

It's dark and dingy, like the first ultra-cool New York bar they'd ever visited, aesthetic but useless candles dribbling wax down the wooden shelves, flickering light shining on Michael's eyes, across his cheekbones. His hand feels cold, probably from the hipster beer clutched in his hand, but the rest of him is warm, warm, warm. Michael's pressed up against him, the both of them wedged into a nook in the corner of the bar. He can distantly hear the noise of other people and, weirdly, a fire alarm. He ignores them all because there's a hand on his bicep, and his laughter is cut off by Michael's mouth against his, hot and insistent.

 

It's a cold day, miserable drizzling rain pattering outside, and he and Michael are tucked into their bed. The bare skin of their legs press against each other, and it doesn't feel weird to be close together, the almost uncomfortably warm press of flesh doesn't make Jeremy skin crawl. Michael laughs, and it sounds far away, when Jeremy presses him back into the pillows, trading slow, sweet kisses.

 

Jeremy wakes slowly, like wading through treacle, like the lights coming up in a cinema after all's said and done. 

 

He rolls closer to the other body on the bed, burying his nose in the nape of Michael's neck and running his hand up under Michael's sleep shirt, a slow familiar gesture. He wants to kiss Michael awake but he knows he needs his sleep, so instead he settles for huddling closer. It's familiar gesture, he realises a moment too late, that belong to someone other than him. The sleepy morning is cracked apart by the pit of his stomach dropping, when he remembers how yesterday actually played out, how everything else has ever happened, that the soft, slow kisses don't belong to him. 

 

He feels disgusting, not for the guy thing, although he has to think about that sometime later, but because it still feels so right, so correct, so familiar in his chest. He- oh god no, he's half-hard from his dreams, and he has the absent thought that he's absurdly grateful Michael still seems to be asleep. Shit, this is creepy, and gross, crushing on his best friend, his roommate, when Michael is so obviously over that crush he had in high school. It's- maybe it's a one-time thing? Just the emotions from last night, and the fact that he's pathetic and lonely and sad? But even Jeremy doesn't really believe that. It- it feels so comfortable, even in his dream. Shit, he's still got his torso curled into Michael's, thank god he didn't really do anything weirder than his usual sleepy octopus cuddling. He roughly pulls on some clothes for the day and avoids looking at Michael’s still sleeping form because he feels like he’ll try to brush his fringe off his face, or just clamber back into bed and stay there for eternity.

 

 

Michael sleeps in late for once, waking to a cold, empty bed. He wanders into their kitchenette and watches Jeremy’s back as he chops over the countertop. Jeremy doesn’t turn to face him, or acknowledge his presence, and Michael worries that their discussions last night, and Jeremy’s weird, cheesy platonic proposal, were all some dream and they’re still fighting. 

“Hey.” Michael murmurs, and Jeremy actually jumps a little, but turns around with a grin on his face anyway, and it all feels right with Michael. It’s the beginning of a new, better chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, yes, i love u all, sorry for using a dream as a shitty plot excuse, i'll have more chapters up soon, it's hard to write fanfiction on a bunch of plane trips. please? kudos? and comment????????? i love talking to u all
> 
> have u ever had a dream where ur dating someone and everything is perfect and ur blissfully happy and then u wake up because let me tell u, it feels bad man.


	16. breakfast and a chill emotional maelstrom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy has a realisation, Michael is moving on. Christine is bemused.

While Michael’s still asleep in their bed, Jeremy forgoes showering because he cannot be naked and alone with his thoughts right now. He scrabbles in his coat from yesterday, finds his phone, and frantically messages Christine because, shitting hell, he needs to talk to someone and Michael is his normal go-to.

 

[7:00 am] heereortheere: christine! i thnk i have a problem

 

[7:00 am] heereortheere: like a really big problem please hELP

 

[7:00 am] heereortheere: christine

 

[7:01 am] heereortheere: christINE

 

[7:01 am] heereortheere: chris chris chris

 

[7:01 am] heereortheere: christiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine

 

[7:01 am] spacedace: gkjhdsiomp

 

[7:03 am] heereortheere: chris?

 

[7:04 am] spacedace: Jeremy? It’s 7am, are you alright, what’s so important?

 

[7:04 am] heereortheere: oh sorry i forgot that most ppl dont wake up at 7

 

[7:04 am] spacedace: ?

 

[7:05 am] heereortheere: i dont want to bother u never mind

 

[7:05 am] spacedace: Well, I’m awake now. Are you okay? Did you and Michael argue again?

 

[7:05 am] heereortheere: no no no no no

 

[7:06 am] heereortheere: how do u tell if ur actually attracted to someone of if its just some random weird thing in your brain

 

[7:06 am] spacedace: …

 

[7:06 am] spacedace: …

 

[7:06 am] spacedace: …

 

[7:07 am] heereortheere: christiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine, please help me! dont just send me ellipses!!!

 

[7:07 am] spacedace: Jeremy.

 

[7:07 am] spacedace: Why would you ask me that?

 

[7:08 am] heereortheere: shit sorry that was probably rude cause ur my ex right? shit sorry that was mean and weird

 

[7:08 am] spacedace: Jeremy, no, of course you can come to me with anything you want to talk about.

 

[7:08 am] spacedace: I love you, but shouldn’t you ask someone else, like Rich or Jake, or even Chloe or Brooke?

 

[7:09 am] heereortheere: yeah shit sorry that was rude

 

[7:09 am] spacedace: Jeremy no, it’s just …… you do remember that I’m aroace, right? I pretty much can’t help you answer whether or not you’re attracted to Michael.

 

[7:09 am] heereortheere: oH

 

[7:09 am] heereortheere: that makes sense yeah uh sorry for waking u up then

 

[7:10 am] heereortheere: wait how did u know i was talking about michael

 

[7:10 am] spacedace: For the record, I think you should go for it. Talk to Rich and Jake though.

 

[7:10 am] heereortheere: wait christine what? ????

 

[7:10 am] heereortheere: ?????

 

[7:11 am] heereortheere: uh okay well sorry for wakin u, thanks for helping me yesterday, love u

 

[7:11 am] spacedace: I love you too, give Michael a hug for me.

 

 

Jeremy tries not to dwell on how bizarre that was, and how much he wants a hug himself right now, and starts making them breakfast. It’s normally very soothing, a domestic routine of chopping and cooking and serving, but today is not soothing in the slightest. He rifles in their small but overflowing cupboard and thinks about how much he’d like to be able to hug Michael so long and so tight that he could feel Michael’s heartbeat through his chest. He picks up spices and puts them back down and wonders if Michael’s blush reaches down to his soft stomach, because Jeremy rarely sees Michael without a shirt on and oh god, he’s only just realizing how much he wants to. He finds some kind of clean looking plates and puts them down, picks them up, puts them down again, and restacks them because he’s wondering if, after that first time they played truth or dare as a group, if he’d kissed Michael in the morning, would Michael have kissed him back?

 

How long had Michael’s crush on him lasted? Probably not that long. It’s hard to imagine anyone having a crush on him at all, let alone Michael who is hot- was hot even in high school. He had suffered through both of his puberties without much acne, something Jeremy could only be envious of, although he certainly wasn’t envious about having to deal with puberty twice. When Michael had started his HRT and his shoulders started filling out it wasn’t that Michael got better looking per se. It was just that when they were around 19 and Jeremy still felt gangly and pointy, too tall and thin to be good for anything except reaching the top shelves, Michael became so …. so much happier with himself and his body that everything that had always made him handsome had become so much more pronounced; his smile got bigger, he was more likely to actually talk and join in on conversations so he became way more outgoing and funny, he got this kind of aggressively positive vibe around him that never failed to make Jeremy feel better.

 

Shit, did he think Michael was attractive? He’d always thought that, obviously, but there’s a difference between thinking that your best friend is hot and that he’s _hot_ and shit, that doesn’t even really make sense to Jeremy even inside his own head. He’s starting to talk in tautologies to himself, and he feels like his brain is melting and his heart is racing because shit, shit, shit, what if this isn’t just some weird jealousy provoked attraction? What if he actually does like Michael that way?

 

Maybe, just maybe, he should actually try and talk to Rich or Jake about this.

 

Jeremy is chopping up mushrooms, on flat out auto-pilot, and trying not to think about what Rich and Michael would have looked like making out when they dated during high school because that isn’t fucking helpful right now, when he hears a soft “Hey,” behind him and nearly jumps out of his skin.

 

He gives himself a split-second to try and school his face into something that isn’t gay- (bi? pan?) – panic, and turns around to grin at Michael.

 

“Hey dude, you sleep alright?”

 

“Yeah, you?”

 

“Perfect.”

 

They stare at each other for a second and Jeremy fears that everything he’s thinking is just playing out across his face and Michael’s going to bail, going to run for the hills at how creepy Jeremy is being, until Michael waves in the direction of the small mountain of mushrooms in front of Jeremy and asks, “Need some help?”

 

They make omelettes together while the sun begins filtering in through their dirty window, creeping up the edge of the squip’s pot and making Michael’s fingertips glow whenever they edge under the sunlight and dear god, Jeremy needs to get out of the kitchen before he just tries to kiss Michael or something. He hasn’t gotten enough fucking sleep for this, and he feels like he cried out all his ability to communicate yesterday, he feels bone dead tired and sore and he assumes Michael does too but- but Michael is smiling softly down at the eggs he’s whisking together and yeah, sure, he looks tired, but he looks more at home and comfortable than he has in weeks, maybe months. Jeremy ignores his thoughts about just how long Michael looked uncomfortable without him noticing, ignores the guilt pulling at his stomach, and leans over to hug Michael. The awkward one armed hug is turned into a full bodied embrace when Michael drops his fork into the eggs and angles their torsos together.

 

“Hey, are you sure you’re alright?”

 

“Yeah, Christine told me to give you a hug for her.”

 

That makes Michael chuckle as he pulls back, one hot hand resting on Jeremy’s waist.

 

“Maybe I also wanted a hug too.”

 

Jeremy’s voice almost breaks and Michael’s hand is burning through his singlet and god, he feels like a teenager again.

 

“Jeremy,” Michael says, his small soft smile splitting into a wide grin, “You don’t need an excuse to have a hug.”

 

Jeremy stares at his best friend, almost nose to nose, his best fucking friend of fifteen years, his favourite person; that he would do anything for, grin as bright as the early morning sun, his friend that he lives with and is fake married to and oh, no-

 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

 

Jeremy is absolutely _fucked_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi hi so sorry for disappearing, update schedule will be a bit funky for a bit but!!!! we're getting there  
> i love u all, sorry this is all rambling  
> also if you draw fanart of this fic I will almost certainly cry and scream so please please tag me if u do, or send me the link or something  
> and the double puberty thing is cos when trans ppl go on hrt, they get a like ??? second puberty??? double the fun! (not fun)


	17. a phone call and a meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is slightly happier, Jeremy is in turmoil, David is here.

Jeremy cannot wait for Michael to leave for work. Not that he wants Michael to leave, necessarily, but he really, really, really should call Rich and Jake and get a second opinion on his sudden onset love. But, right as Michael is about to head out to work on his own, Jeremy finds himself jumping up from the beanbag and hears himself say, “Hey, do you want company on the train?”

 

Michael turns back to peer at him, shrugging on his hoodie, and beams at him.

 

“Yeah dude, if you don’t have anywhere to be, I’d love some company. Keeps away the loons on the train.”

 

Jeremy feels like there’s two versions of him, sitting in his seat, toying with the sleeve of his sweater, as they head towards Michael’s work. There’s the version of him laughing along with Michael’s jokes, the one that feels like old times, with the usual comfort and joy that Michael brings to him. Then there’s the version of him that feels the sharp edge of something new in his emotions, the him that spends the entire ride frantically trying to convince himself that no, really, this is all a super sudden, new and not-real set of emotions, that he’s never found Michael attractive before. That the reason he lost his breath when Michael was getting changed, days ago when he’d gifted Michael his new-old red hoodie, was just exhaustion. There’s no way he has the hots for Michael and had never noticed before, right? Right?

 

He laughs along with Michael and hopes to god his acting classes are working.

 

 

Focusing on Jeremy as a friend rather than dwelling on his unrequited love for his pasty best friend is a fucking relief. Michael feels like he’s been giving himself a watered-down version of their friendship for years. Not that he was always focused on his crush, but their fake-marriage really threw into stark relief how differently he and Jeremy feel about each other, so it’s refreshing to sit with Jeremy and feel at ease. He watches Jeremy as they sit, squished hip to hip on the train seats, as they giggle at the stuffy businessman having an argument about peas over his Bluetooth, way too loudly and angrily. It’s all the same stuff that made Michael fall head over heels for Jeremy, the uplifting jokes, the careful consideration and comfort he gives off, the way his neuroses align amusingly with Michael’s, but more free. His crush isn’t fleeting, he knows, and neither is Jeremy. The infatuation of a crush always whispers ‘you can grow old together, get married, live together with no problems ever’, but for Michael he already mostly has those things from Jeremy. It’s not an infatuation, just an unfortunate one-sided love, the kind that an old married couple has, but if one person in the old married couple had no clue he was married. Michael’s internal similes are getting a bit confused given that they are actually pretend-married now, but his point stands. It’s a low simmer of love, rather than the obsessive infatuation he felt as a teen.

 

The absolute comfort of just _hanging out_ with Jeremy suffuses through his chest, contentment with how they are, the knowledge that sure, Jeremy is blind as shit sometimes, but he’s loving and kind. He’s keeping Michael company all the way to work even though Jeremy’s classes that evening are on the other side of the city and Michael knows, now, after clearing the air, that Jeremy will do his best not to fuck it all up again. Or at least, not in the same way. It- it still annoys him, sure, and it’s going to be kind of embarrassing and a pain to explain the whole thing to David, but he can’t really fault Jeremy. Well, he can, but he knows that he’s sorry now, and hey- he’s only human.

 

They separate when they reach the Soda Factory and as soon as Jeremy sees Michael duck under the counter and slip on his apron, he gives a final wave, turns on his heel, and starts calling Rich while he power-walks down the street because, man, man, man, he needs to talk to someone or something that isn’t their potted plants or his best-friend, the guy he has a crippling and sudden crush on.

 

“Hey?”

 

“Hi Rich, it's Jeremy, I mean I think you already knew that from caller ID but h-hi I need s-"

 

“Jeremy?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Take a deep breath, dude, and slow down a bit. Do you want me to get Jake on the line? He's way more chill if you need chill.”

 

“U-uh. Yeah. Jake would be good, but I- I'd like you to stay too. If that's alright?”

 

“Of course man.”

 

Jeremy looks around while he listens to Rich holler for Jake on the other end of the phone, and realizes that he has absolutely no clue what street he's on.

 

“You still there?”

 

“Wh- oh yeah, hi Jake.”

 

Jeremy shrugs to himself as he talks, and picks a random street, turning right at the intersection and doing his best to look small and unassuming as he strides deeper into New York.

 

“What's up?”

 

Jeremy is hit with the sudden and forceful realization that he has no clue what he’s doing, or what he’ll say. Luckily, Jake guesses for him.

 

“Is this about Michael?”

 

“Y- Yeah.”

 

“I assume neither of you are hurt or having a huge argument or anything, because you’re not crying.”

 

“Hah, no. U- um. I don’t even know what I want to say.”

 

“That’s fine, take your time, I don’t need to head out for another half an hour and Rich has the day off work, so we can have dead air all day long if your phone plan will allow it.”

 

“Th- thanks. No, I, well, I, uh- so, do you think I have a crush on Michael?”

 

Jeremy’s abstractly glad that he has one hand occupied holding his phone because it’s keeping him from ripping apart the bottom of his sweater as silence rings over the line. He thinks he can hear slightly muffled conversation, before he hears the sound of the phone being collected from where it was dropped onto a table, and Rich’s voice comes across, slightly too loud and clear.

 

“Do you think you have a crush on Michael?”

 

“M- maybe?”

 

“How long? Please say for more than two years.”

 

“I- what? I don’t know for how long, that’s what’s freaking me out! I didn’t- I mean I love Michael but I never thought I might _love_ Michael until last night when I suddenly just kind of went ‘oh maybe’ but that’s a terrible idea because he doesn’t like me like that and I sound like a teenage girl but I’m scared that this’ll fuck everything up again, right after we got things to work properly and-”

 

“Wait,” Jake’s voice comes back over the line, “Did you just say you think Michael doesn’t have a crush on you?”

 

“Yeah, I mean I know he did when we were kids but not anymore!”

 

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

 

“What?”

 

“Okay Jeremy, run us through it a bit more slowly. You weren’t attracted to Michael before now? Or any other guys?”

 

“I mean, I don’t know? If you asked me yesterday, I would’ve said no but now I’m ju- just don’t know. Maybe? I- I didn’t really think about it being an option or anything until yesterday when I realized I was jealous about him maybe dating someone that it, y’now, clicked.”

 

“He’s dated guys before though.”  


“Yeah, I mean, I don’t especially hate this guy or anything but with our whole fake marriage that I roped Michael in to, and the kissing, I don’t know it just kind of felt right in my brain, and I got super jealous and, yeah.”

 

Rich’s voice drowns out Jake’s over the phone again as they both start talking at once.

 

“Why did you say that you didn’t think it was an option? We both came out in high school, me and Michael, and Jake at prom. Then Brooke and Chloe as well. And Christine! Pretty much all your friends are queer, of course not being straight was an option.”

 

“Rich? I mean, I never meant that it wasn’t an option for me, but that, I don’t know, that liking Michael specifically wasn’t an option. And the u- uh, the s- squip made it so that I didn’t really like things about, y’know, _stuff_ for years.”

 

“Shit, that sucks. Also, dude, Jake and I have sex all the time, you can say the word ‘sex’ to us.”

 

Jeremy feels his cheeks heat up as he answers.

 

“I know, I just, it’s weird talking about this.”

 

“That’s fair enough. Uh, well, I say just go for it. Go up to him and say your piece and kiss him.”

 

“Rich! No! I can’t do that!”  


“Why not?”

 

“He doesn’t like me like that!”  


“Holy wow, okay, I’m passing the phone back to Jake so I can go yell into my pancakes. Good luck dude.”

 

“Shit, I’m sorry for being annoying. I can hang up and go.”

 

He hears Jake’s voice comes over the phone again, and the vague rustlings of Rich moving in their kitchen in the background.

 

“No, don’t worry about it, Rich is just a bit impatient. So, do you think other guys are hot?”

 

“I mean, yeah? Sure?”

 

“Are you attracted to other guys? Or non-binary people? People other than girls?”

 

Jeremy feels his ears burn red and smothers the ridiculous urge to cover his phone, even though there’s no-one around to hear his fumbling conversation about love.

 

“I- I don’t know why that matters.”

 

“Changes my advice, I guess. You don’t have to answer though.”

 

“I- yeah? Like I said the s- squip stopped all that for a while and I got grossed out by the thought of being near people for _that_ reason, but yeah? Sure? But I think that was just me being young and watching anything I could find.”

 

“Straight dudes don’t jack off to gay porn, Jeremy.”

 

“They- they don’t?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Pretty sure.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Mm-hmm. That sounded like that answered at least part of what you called for. For the record, I think you should just go home, Michael’s at work right now I think, so you’ll have the apartment to yourself, so go home try some different kinds of porn out then have a good long thought about Michael. The thoughts and the porn can overlap if you wan-“  


“Okay thanks Jake and Rich for your help good bye, good night, I mean, good day, whoops, I’m going into a train tunnel, losing connection, bye.”

 

Jeremy hangs up so fast on Jake that he almost drops his phone down the subway stairs, face burning hot and red. The aura of embarrassment that he feels hang around him like some kind of visible ‘loser’ cloud only gets heavier when he hears someone snort with laughter behind him.

He doesn’t quite spin to face the mystery snorter, but it’s a close call. Instead, he turns in what he hopes in an aloof and not at all scared-that-you-heard-me-be-weird-about-sex manner, to face whoever just laughed and oh, really? Fucking come on, really?

 

It’s David, with his clarinet case in one hand and the other grasping at the thin air by his side, looking like he wishes he can just go back and stop himself from making a single sound. He looks very unhappy that Jeremy has spotted him, but simultaneously a little smug. He mostly looks sad, though.

 

They stare at each other for a second, before both of them start talking at once. Jeremy clams up and David, seemingly determined to get everything and then probably leave immediately, keeps talking. He stares at Jeremy, slightly too wide-eyed to be normal, like if he wins this staring contest he can leave happy.

 

“I’m really sorry Michael is your husband. I mean, I’m sorry about flirting with Michael, I didn’t know he was your husband. Is your husband. He said he wasn’t seeing anyone but you seemed pretty mad so I guess he’s done that before. Not my business. Uh, sorry he’s cheating on you. Bye.”

 

David breaks eye contact as soon as he’s finished talking and turns to walk away, even though he obviously needed to go into the subway station that Jeremy is now blocking. Dumbly, and despite deep in his chest just really wanting to let David keep walking, he grabs David’s clarinet case.

 

It makes David jerk away, clutching the case to his chest and unintentionally pulling Jeremy forward with it.

 

Jeremy doesn’t want to do this. He wants to go home and jack off and maybe have a small sexuality crises and keep Michael for himself forever, but that’s selfish so instead he says, “He’s not really my husband.”

 

“But- the rings?”

 

“I mean, he is kind of my husband but not really?”  


“I don’t like the fact that that sounded like a question.” David says, with the beginnings of a small smile, however crooked, on his face.

 

“I mean, he’s not actually cheating but he is my h- husband, kind of.”

 

The small smile on David’s face falls off and is replaced by consternation and confusion.

 

“Are you an open relationship? What do you mean, ‘kind of’?”

 

“U-uh shit, I’m doing a bad job of this. Look, can you just come with me?”

 

“Where? I don’t want to get murdered for being a homewrecker. Please spare my beautiful face.”

 

David says it with a laugh but Jeremy can hear how tremulous he sounds and, realizes, quite suddenly, that he’s really fucking this up.

 

“I’m really fucking this up.”

 

“Uh, okay, well can I just go and pretend none of this ever happened?”  


“N- no, Michael will want to see you.”

 

“I had no intention of ever seeing Michael again. There are other coffee shops and hot baristas, can I please just go, please let go of my case.”

 

Jeremy lets go of the case like he’s been burned and David stumbles a little at the sudden loss of an anchor. He still looks a bit sad, and smug, but mostly now he looks like he’s confused as hell and going to bolt. So Jeremy spits out the only thing he can think of that’ll win David over.

 

“He thinks you’re hot and wants to date you and he’s currently on shift.”

 

It makes David pause, and relax a little, which Jeremy counts as a goal.

 

“Why, though?”

 

“Uh, shit, man that’s a complex question, but c’mon, please. This’ll make him happy.”

 

Jeremy doesn’t know if it’s the frankness of his voice, or the puppy dog eyes that he’s using that seem to have only ever worked on Michael before, but David nods. Just slightly, but enough for Jeremy to realize that he’s actually doing this.

 

He’s getting Michael a boyfriend, right here, right now.

 

It doesn’t feel great but even Jeremy knows it’s the right thing to do. Probably. If only he could convince the jealously writhing in his stomach of that fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi hi so sorry for the long delays, life is a mcfuckin ride rn  
> thank you so much to all you lovely readers and commenters!! first page of kudosed results!!! i love u all!!! please come yell at me on tumblr at media-mumbles!!!


	18. confrontation (or how not do anything)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy is bi????????? Michael is but a player on a stage, David is weary.

Michael can tell Jeremy’s walked into the Soda Factory before he even turns around, it’s something in the way he walks like he’s trying not to step too hard on the flooring, in case he leaves a mark. They’ve been friends for fifteen years, so Michael can even tell that Jeremy’s anxious about something, but when he turns around from re-filling the coffee beans he almost drops the bag in surprise.

 

“Jeremy!”

 

He says it way too loudly, and immediately lowers his tone so that none of the scant few customers in the café this early leave a nasty review.

 

“Jeremy, did you fu- freaking track David down?”

 

Jeremy looks- well, he looks panicked but the kind of panicked he used to get when trying to do public speaking, and David, standing just behind Jeremy, looks scared enough to match.

 

“No? I just found him?”

 

“Found him? What, like a stray dog, you thought you’d bring him here? Shi- shoot, no offense David.”

 

“How could I possibly take offence with that?” David says with a sad smile.

 

Michael tries to explain to Jeremy how fundamentally he is not prepared for this encounter, through angry eyebrows and flickering glances and glares. Jeremy tries to signal back that this was the right thing to do, through half-raised hands, slight shrugs and queasy smiles.

 

To David, it mostly looks like they’re having some kind of telepathic stroke, so he speaks up quietly, “Hey, I can just leave?”

 

“No!” Michael and Jeremy both exclaim in unison, without breaking eye contact.

 

Michael turns towards David, and shoots him a weak but warm smile.

 

“Hey, I don’t know why you came back, but thanks. Uh, can you guys come into the back room for a sec while I wait for my co-worker to show up, then we’ll talk this out?”

 

“S-sure.” Jeremy replies. David just shrugs, and shoots a text off to one of the girls in the quartet so that if they find his body tomorrow morning, they’ll know where to look first.

 

Thankfully, they’re only stuck in the back room for a short while, though it has no business being called a ‘room’ when it’s pretty much just a closet with a sink. Michael comes and drags them out and over to a corner table, rolling up his apron and stuffing it under his butt so that no customers will come over and hassle him for ignoring them, at least hopefully.

 

“So,” Michael begins. “What the fuck Jeremy?”

 

“I- Before I burst in it looked like you two were getting along really well and I- I thought maybe if we just explained what was going on, David might understand.”

 

“Are you, uh, are you sure, dude? Because I’m pretty sure most of the gang didn’t even know until last night.”

 

“I- If it’ll make you happy, then yeah, definitely.”

 

Michael eyes up David, who plasters on the sleaziest, smarmiest grin he can manage. It makes Michael smile a little, just enough for him so say, “Yeah. Sure.”

 

Jeremy tells their story and god does it sound even stupider being said out loud than he might have imagined. He leaves out as much as he can, including all the squip related stuff, his sudden inner panic and love for Michael, and Michael’s old crush on him, and shrugs at the end.

 

“Y-Yeah. That’s it. Husbands, but not husbands.”

 

David stares blankly at him, at them both.

 

“U-Um, I’m going to go get a coffee, do you want one Michael? Chai latte, yeah? And, uh, D-David, I, uh, I’ll just get you a cappuccino, you look like a cappuccino kind of guy, okay, bye, have fun talking.”

 

“So.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You’re really not actually married to him.”

 

“Nope.” Michael says, popping the ‘p’ sound.

 

“You’re not in love with him?”

 

“Uh-“

 

“No, okay, Michael? Your instant answer to that should be ‘no’. I- I can’t go anywhere with this if your answer starts with ‘uh’ or ‘kind of’.”

 

Michael looks away from David to star after Jeremy for a second, at his still-too-lanky arms almost knocking over the tip cup as he hands over the cash for their coffees.

 

“Do you even like cappuccinos?”

 

“You’re obviously avoiding the question and no. I’m happy to be friends now that this has all been worked out but never anything more until your answer is instantly ‘no’.”

 

“Look, okay, I love Jeremy. And I am, maybe a little, in love with Jeremy. But, he’s straight and he doesn’t like dudes like that, let alone me. Look, my first ever boyfriend? Hi name was Rich, and when we started dating I was in love with someone else, and so was he, and we liked each other, sure, but that- well, we could put aside crushing on other people because we just really liked each other.”

 

“That sounds like a cop out.”

 

“It’s really not. I- look, I don’t know why the fuck Jeremy decided to bring you here but I really do think you and I could maybe, possibly work out. If that’s not too presumptuous.”

 

"Kind of hard to be presumptuous when all of what you’re saying is filled with ‘maybe’ and ‘possibly’ but yeah. I can kind of, maybe, possibly, see us too.”

 

David is smiling, not the smarmy, shit-eating one, but a small genuine smile. It looks like David wants to push the conversation a bit more, but just then Jeremy stumbles back to the table, fumbling all their cups down on the wood slab that is their table and almost burns his hand.

 

“So, Jeremy?”

 

“Uh, y-yeah David? Do you want me to leave again, I can, that’s fi-“

 

“Nah. I just want to ask about the character you’re playing.”

 

“Oh, yeah sure.”

 

Jeremy plops down on the seat next to Michael, their thighs hot next to each other.

 

“So, you got hired in part because they think you’re gay, right, so you have this weird fake husband thing going on.”

 

“Uh, yeah, sounds stupid when you say it like that, but yeah.”

 

“Don’t you feel bad that you aren’t LGBTQ and you’re taking a spot specifically meant for someone in the community?”

 

Michael sucks in a sharp breath, but Jeremy replies almost instantly.

 

“I- I did at first, because I didn’t realise what was going on until it almost felt ‘too late’. But-“ Jeremy flickers a gaze at Michael for a split-second, “I- It was a really great troupe and I’m used to feeling abstractly guilty about stuff, it’s just kind of who I am. Also, now I- I uh think I’m part of the community anyway.”

 

Jeremy can feel Michael tense beside him slightly, and keeps eye contact with David, whose eyes are open and friendly but still, somehow, analytical.

 

“What, like you’re somehow an honorary member?”

 

“I mean weirdly, yeah, like all of my friends are part of the community anyway, I just kind of felt like it. Like, our friends Rich and Jake? They actually started dating in high school, they’re actually married now. I think you’d get along great with Rich. And, uh, no, like, I- I’m _actually_ bi?”

 

Jeremy can feel Michael gaze on the side of his head, sharp and piercing and oh god, he can probably tell just by looking about his weird dream last night, he needs to go.

 

“Okay, bye, nice to see you again David, see you at home Michael.”

 

He goes to say their customary goodbye but the ‘love you, bye’ gets stuck in his throat so instead Jeremy just kind of gurgles off at the end of his sentence, stares at them both, turns heel and leaves.

 

“What the _fuck_ David?”

 

“He’s kind of weird, your twunk.”

 

“Why did you say that to him?”

 

“We can’t date, Michael.”

 

“Are we having separate conversations? What. The. Fuck. David?”

 

“We can’t date. Or even think about it. You should have seen your face when he came out with it, wow, you really fucking love him.”

 

“Y- you shouldn’t have forced him to come out!”

 

“I didn’t mean to.”

 

Michael is actually angry now.

 

“Yes, you did! You put him into a position where either he had to say he was an awful person, and make me out to be awful by proxy for helping him, or he had to come out.”

 

David seems to consider it for a second.

 

“Shit, you’re right, fuck, I’ll apologise to him if I ever see him again. Maybe you can apologise for me?”

 

"I'm not sure about that, but I'll let him know you didn't mean to."

 

"So, you didn't know?"

 

Michael shifts his gaze away, and examined the scratched wood under his fingers.

 

"No."

 

“Rich? Was that the same ‘Rich’?”

 

“What?”

 

“Your first boyfriend and your now-married friend? Rich?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Who did he marry? Was it the guy he had a crush on while you dated?”

 

“I- yeah.”

 

“Who did you have a crush on, then?”

 

“What?”

 

“Was it Jeremy?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Nope.”

 

David gets up from his seat opposite Michael, and pats him on the hand. He drops a crumpled fiver on the table for his coffee along with an equally crumpled napkin.

 

“Nope.” He repeats. “I’m not getting pulled into your Shakespearian tragedy of a romance if you’ve had a crush on him for at least six years. Nope. Call me when things work out. Or call me when they don’t, but somehow, I don’t think you’ll have a problem. He loves you.”

 

Michael catches David’s hand as he turns to walk away.

 

“He loves me, but he doesn’t love me. I could ignore it, I want to try.”

 

David’s eyes soften, but he pulls away.

 

“Nah, he loves you. In all the ways. It looked like he was having a heart attack bringing me hear, like a heart attack from a broken heart. He’s. In. Love. With You. Go get your twunk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI I AM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY i moved countries and am involved in an actual real life wedding and life is hectic but this will be finished within aboutttttt two weeks sorry!!!!! there may well be a porny epilogue if there is literally any demand for it


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